The November Knights of Tannenberg
by Tamer Lorika
Summary: Toris and Feliks are finally together - but neither are unscathed. Toris is dealing with past trauma, Feliks is coming out as a transvestite - and they both need a fabulous costume for the ball! Together, they might not totally fail. High School AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello. I've been viciously inactive for a myriad of reasons, but the first of which is - well, I was working on _this. _It was for the Minibang Challege on LJ - please, do look it up; some very talented authors wrote stories that I loved very much. **

**This is a very... long... piece that took me since May to complete, but I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It will be updated in parts (sigh, I have no tiiiime). Also, I may be re-writing the ending...**

**Err... warnings are for later smut and some language, as well as ideologically sensitive material. You know the drill. **

* * *

"H… hi Liet..."

The voice came out of the dim lamplight, so much more hesitant, more fragile than he ever imagined it could be. So unsure. So scared. It hurt to know that the brash confidence that had always been taken for granted could be shaken so thoroughly. Toris dropped his school bag inside, closing the door with a click and staring. Feliks was in the middle of their shared dorm room, arms around himself in a parody of an embrace, as if protecting himself from Toris' gaze. It hid nothing – not the knee-length plaid skirt or the sky blue blouse or the dragonfly hairclips or the navy knee-socks… Toris had known all along, of course, but at the same time the sight hit him like a physical weight.

Feliks' half-flooded green eyes met Toris' own misty ones and without hesitation Toris crossed to Feliks' side, wrapping his arms around him.

"Feliks…"

"W-wh… what do you think?"

Toris did not know what to think. He buried his nose in Feliks' scalp. He did not _want_ to think. But… but Feliks needed this.

"You are beautiful, _mano meilė_," he murmured into the hair that had always smelled of strawberries. "So, so beautiful. Sh… so don't cry, Feliks, you are so pretty so don't cry."

Feliks did not reply, stepping back and scrubbing at his face but tears kept flowing. "Thanks, Liet. Thank you." They ran down his cheek in rivulets, blurring the line of blush so carefully brushed on. Feliks kept wiping his face with one hand, the other reaching for a handkerchief he had placed inside his blouse.

"Its okay_,_" Toris said, taking the handkerchief with trembling fingers and wiping Feliks' face, smoothing the makeup, drying the tears. "It'll be okay." Feliks never cried. Never.

Feliks nodded, kissing Toris in a kiss that tasted of salt and lipgloss. "You're not going to leave me, right? Just because…"

Toris shook his head, smiling sadly. "I'm not going to leave you over something as… small… as this. I know how much this means to you. I think I've known for awhile."

"I can't tell everyone right away. I don't want them to see me like this."

"Take your time. You have all the time you need. I'll still be here."

No matter what trouble Feliks seemed to get into, Toris would always be there for him. Always.


	2. Chapter 2

Toris woke the next morning to Feliks curled against his chest. He breathed deeply, sloughing off sleep in the blessed stillness that pervaded the room before the alarm went off. Feliks' face was smooth and careless in sleep, body warm and twisted in his pink night gown.

The night gown had been the beginning. It had been a fixture since September, smuggled form home in Feliks' luggage. The night before school began in earnest, Toris had happily retired to the room that he was to share with Feliks, thrilled to be lucky enough to have gotten this dorm assignment, anxious to hold Feliks close after an entire summer apart.

"Like, close your eyes, Liet," Feliks had said as they were unpacking their things for bed. "I've got a totally awesome surprise for you." Despite the mischievous tone of his voice –which already signaled distinct trouble – his eyes were wary. And so Toris grew wary as well, and closing his eyes, he did as he was told. There was a rustle of fabric, a thumping noise followed by a flurry of Polish curses, then:

"'Kay, open them and tell me what you think."

He looked gorgeous, of course. The nightgown was sleeveless and sheer, a pale rose better associated with newborns. It draped from his lithe figure, slimming his shoulders and giving his hips a slight curve, stopping just above bare knees and smooth legs.

Toris had promised that he was gorgeous, and knew that it was not the end. It wasn't.

The change hadn't stopped there, nor had it stayed completely private. Toris caught glimpses of ribboned bobby socks under school trousers, the shine of nude lip gloss, clear nail polish on perfect nails.

And Toris accepted all of it, absorbed it, kept the secret because it was Feliks who kept _his_ secrets.

So now… even now, when something had shifted – _for good, completely_ – Toris only tightened his hold on Feliks' waist and breathed him in.

_Bibibibibeep!_

_Bibibibibeep!_

"Kurwa mać, budzik!"

The voice was muffled, grousing from somewhere near Toris' shoulder. He grinned ruefully, rolling over to tap the alarm clock off. Toris slipped out form under the covers, shivering in the wet, mid-October air.

"Up, Feliks, inspection is in an hour," Toris warned, grabbing the duvet and quickly wrenching it off of Feliks before he could get a hold on it – otherwise, the tug-of-war would last half the morning.

"Odejdź! Ja nie się obudzić!" Feliks whined, burying his head in his pillow.

"Feliks, if Yao comes in and finds you in _my_ bed, we're gonna have trouble on our hands. Do you really wanna have to find a new roommate?"

"Yeah, one that doesn't hog all the blankets!"

"Feliks!"

But he was now pretending not to listen, right on schedule.

"Fine. But I'm going to take a shower first and use up all the hot water and… and… and pour all your conditioner down the toilet!"

That did it.

Feliks was up in a flash, slamming quickly into a drawer before snatching a towel from atop his dresser and streaking into the bathroom.

"Meanie!" he shrieked from safely behind the closed door. Toris just sighed. What a battle. He set about making his bed, tossing one of the pillows onto the other mattress in the room. That one never had to be made. It was never _used._

There was steam issuing from under the door as the hot water was cranked on high. "He'd better leave me some hot water," Toris groaned under his breath, listening to the boy bang about in the bathroom, catching muffled sounds of wakefulness from the other rooms. Many in the midst of their own morning battles.

_Ahh, school…_

The sound of the hair dryer blazed from the bathroom as Toris picked up the teacup from the bedside table. The dregs left were ice-cold but still smelled faintly of valerian.

The hair dryer switched off.

"Hey, Liet?"

"Yeah, Feliks?"

"I totally had a good night's sleep last night, right? Didn't you?"

"Yeah, actually, I did."

"Cool. We'll have to thank Tino for the tea."

Even now, the way Feliks said "we" so casually, as if their relationship were just that natural, sent Toris' pulse racing.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "Are you done in there? I still need to take a shower."

There was no reply, but the handle clicked and Feliks strode out looking perfect, as usual. Toris blinked, strangely unused to the fact that he was wearing i_trousers_/i again. Of course, he still looked good, dressed in the light blue dress shirt and green sweater vest that was the oft-lamented uniform of St. Jeanne Academy for boys. He was wearing a silver charm bracelet half-hidden under his sleeve, which he claimed to have gotten from his cousin Elizaveta, who went to the sister school for girls across the river.

Feliks looked… well, actually, kinda beautiful.

Feliks noticed Toris staring, shifting his weight and nervously twirling a strand of hair in his fingers.

"…what…?" he mumbled. "I know I'm not wearing a sk- I mean… I'm not gonna… yet… I don't think I'm ready to 'come out' yet."

"Come out? A little late for that," Toris teased. "Most of the school already knows that we're together."

"Ugh, you totally know what I mean," groused Feliks, smiling. "Now hurry up and get in the shower already."

Toris kissed him on the cheek and did as he was told.


	3. Chapter 3

**Please don't misunderstand me - I love Russia very much. I promise that you will not hate him, in the end. But also, understand what Toris is feeling at the moment... (this will have bearing later, as well). I just want to let you know that Ivan is actually one of my favorite characters and he is _not_ a rapetruck.**

* * *

After being chewed out by Wang Yao, the floor prefect, because their shared dresser was a mess – "It's _so not_ a mess! I know exactly where every- hey, where's my tie?" – Feliks and Toris tumbled down to the dining hall for breakfast. They were late, and there was more oatmeal on the table than in the serving tureen. Ah… Berwald and Lukas had been in another argument. In fact, Orin was dragging Lukas out of the room, rattling on about him "being a child" and accusing him of starting the whole argument, while simultaneously violently apposing any attempts Lukas made to defend himself. Feliks pulled Toris out of the way as the arguing couple shuffled out.

Tino, on the other hand, was passive-aggressively ignoring Berwald as he helped Eduard to clean up the mess. This seemed a much better punishment tactic than the Norwegian's yelling, as Berwald's usually-stern face had taken on a glaze of intense guilt. Toris sighed, wishing the tactic worked so well for him and Fe-

"Good _morning!" _Feliks announced, plopping down at the long bench that flanked the breakfast table. "Oh _my_ gosh, Yao totally got up on the wrong side of the bed today, right?" He flung an arm around Raivis, a harried-looking first-year who sat at their table.

"F-Feliks!" Raivis squeaked. "Arthur and Roderich are _right there_." He jerked his thumb at the bench where most of the student council congregated, most notably Yao's fellow floor prefects, who were in charge of the three dorm floors, making sure that things were quiet and clean and orderly. Quite a feat in an all-boy's school, despite its international renown.

"Pff, they're more focused on their oatmeal," laughed Feliks, ladling out some of the cereal for himself from the tureen. Raivis shook his head and hunched his shoulders.

Toris began helping Eduard and Tino wipe up the last of the spilled food.

"Thanks," said Tino, flashing him a warm smile. "I'm terribly sorry that a mess was made in the first place." Silently, Berwald shrank further into himself, his long frame exuding dejection.

"Umm, no, it's fine," Toris said hurriedly, flashing a sympathetic glance at Berwald. "And, ah, thanks for the tea, besides. I used some last night. It worked well."

Tino laughed happily. "Good, good. I can show you where to get more, when you run out."

"Or, rather, _I_ can," interjected Eduard. "I found a wholesale herb supplier on the net."

"Yeah, but you weren't looking for _valerian_," Tino snorted in reply.

Toris and Berwald both raised incredulous eyebrows. Eduard immediately flushed.

"You make it seem like I'm on drugs! I was looking for catnip!"

At this, Tino started to cackle, and Feliks broke off torturing Raivis to giggle a little. Eduard flushed deeper. "It's a sleep aid! It helps me relax!" Tino and Feliks were both laughing so hard that they seemed about to fall over. Toris and Berwald exchanged glances, clearly communicating "I have no idea why I am dating him". Eduard looked like he wanted to die.

"Um…okay… well, its getting late and the bell is going to ring soon, so Feliks and I should probably get moving…" said Toris pointedly, standing and grabbing Feliks' arm.

"Ya, us too," mumbled Berwald. He hazarded a glance at the suffering Eduard. "S'rry."

Both couples were about to take their leave when a commotion began to echo from the student council table. It looked as if someone was attempting to stand on it.

" – get _down_, you wanker! When I said 'make an announcement', I meant over the P.A. – "

"Hey you guys!" The voice was akin to a female chipmunk – squeaky, with a healthy injection of swagger. Alfred F. Jones had clambered onto the student council's breakfast table and was shouting at the top of his (formidable) lungs. Arthur, student body president, was currently trying to drag him down. It wasn't working.

"Hey, hey! Your illustrious council members have an awesome surprise for y'all!"

Toris resisted the urge to bang his head into something hard. He had known Alfred since middle school. The boy had not matured a bit.

"Since Halloween is coming up and all, we're gonna celebrate! After all, it's pretty much the best holiday _ever_."

"S'not… Christmas is…" whispered Tino under his breath.

"We're gonna have…" Alfred paused for effect, and everyone stared at him expectantly. "A masquerade ball!"

There was an awkward silence.

"Um… with girls. Like, real girls. From across the river."

There was a smattering of applause at _that_, and a few hoots from one of the corners of the cafeteria. Feliks only snorted, flipping his hair and shooting a knowing eye-roll at Toris, who smiled back at him.

"'Kay, so… excitement? Clapping?" prompted Alfred, his self-assured stance on the table deflating just a bit. The threadbare exclamation strengthened a bit – Toris joined in the applause, feeling bad for Al. But the exuberant rugby player just grinned and allowed himself to be dragged away by the irate British boy who had been tugging on his blazer the whole time.

"Uh-oh, guys, it's almost eight fifteen," interrupted Eduard.

Toris glanced down at his watch, groaned, and grabbed Feliks by the back of his collar. "Algebra. Now. We're gonna be late."

They joined the hubbub of the halls, jostling against the solid mass of boys. Feliks grabbed at Toris' hand. "Don't get lost or whatever," he offered, and Toris felt himself blush again. Ducking flying elbows and raucous laughter, they slipped into Mr. Roma's math classroom.

Their teacher was not in the classroom yet, and knowing him, it could be another fifteen minutes before he showed up, despite class being scheduled to start… three minutes ago, actually.

The room wasn't quiet, but it wasn't chaotic, either. Most of the students were conversing in clusters. Feliks led Toris over to a desk in the front of the room, gesturing for him to sit on the chair while he himself perched on the edge of the desk.

"You know, this masquerade thing will _probably_ be totally lame, but its, like, a really cool idea. And we're totally going."

Toris nodded absently, resigned. "Yeah, sure. I figured as much." He smiled a little. "Remember the masquerade in middle school? You and I were knights, and we had that cool chainmail that we made by hand with fishing wire?"

"Pff yeah, and then that stupid Weillschmidt kid came as the same thing but we totally kicked his butt in the costume contest."

Toris' smile grew wider, though dulled at the edges with the tension it had attracted as he walked in the classroom. "Do you want to try that again? We could make chainmail again and – "

"Nope," interrupted Feliks, "sorry, Liet, but I've got some plans."

"…plans?" That didn't sound good.

Feliks smiled in a way that was truly frightening, and boded disastrous for _someone_. Usually Toris.

"Sorry, hon, I can't tell you. I want it to be a surprise…that okay?"

Toris raised an eyebrow, a little spooked. "…okay?"

But Feliks was not looking at him. He had stiffened, sitting straight up and holding his clicky-pen like a weapon. For a moment, Toris was overwhelmed with an image of Feliks with feline ears and tail, back arched, claws extended.

But the fantasy did not last long. Toris' eyes widened and he felt his fingertips grow cold. His shoulders started to shake.

"Leave _now_ before I scratch your face off," Feliks hissed without preamble.

There was a large, ash-blonde boy standing in front of him, twisting a scarf in his hands and staring at them with a nervous expression and an empty smile.

"Good morning, Feliks," he said politely. "Good morning, Toris."

Toris couldn't look up from his hands. "… good morning, Ivan," he nearly whispered. He didn't see Feliks' eyes flash in response to the greeting.

"Back the hell off, Ivan," Feliks spat out. He tried to get in the boy's face, but he was almost a foot too short for that so he just glared menacingly up at him.

"Feliks _don't_ –" Toris said pleadingly, not moving.

"I am sorry," said Ivan, putting up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I will go. I just wanted to check on Toris, first. He seems tired."

"N-no. N-not tired, I'm fine," Toris murmured into the desk.

Another boy appeared at Ivan's side – Wang Yao, the floor prefect. His slight, feminine features were uncharacteristically soft. Feliks turned his glare from Ivan to Yao, then quickly back again. He looked as if he was about to start growling.

"I won't tolerate an altercation in here," Yao snapped without fire. "All three of you, sit down. Our teacher has arrived."

Sure enough, stumbling good-naturedly through the door was Mr. Romulus, seventeen-and-a-half minutes late.

"Hey, hey, math nerds," he laughed. "Actually, I've seen your grades. You guys definitely _aren't_ math nerds." There was a concerted, customary groan of acknowledgement as students drifted towards their seats. Yao gave Ivan a sidelong glance of anticipation before he joined the throng.

"Well, see you," Ivan offered. He was reaching toward Toris, as if to clap him on the shoulder, but Feliks kicked him in the shins, hopping off the desk.

"Yeah, we'll see you," he said meaningfully.

Toris was directing panicky gasps at the desk. Ivan left to sit across the room.

As soon as he was sure Ivan was occupied elsewhere, Feliks spun to face Toris, grabbing his hands. "Liet," he murmured, leaning their foreheads together. "Liet, are you okay?" he began running his thumbs along Toris' shaking knuckles.

"No – yeah – I'm – I'm fine," nodded Toris, dislodging Feliks' forehead, "I- ah- I think I forgot to take my Zoloft this morning."

"Liet!" Feliks squawked in irritation. "You- "

"Mr. Lukasiewicz?" Mr. Romulus boomed. "Though I am certain your conversation is endlessly interesting, I nevertheless remind you that you're here to learn algebra."

"No, I'm here because this is _school_ and I'm _forced_ to be here," Feliks mumbled under his breath, squeezing Toris' hands one last time before flouncing to his own chair.

Toris bit his lip and retrieved a pencil and notebook from his schoolbag and began to mechanically copy the notes that Mr. Romulus inscribed on the board with swooping, cursive strokes.

lim uf(x+h) – f(x)/u

h→0 x -….

His hand trailed off and his gaze went blank. He couldn't concentrate. _Prakeiktas_, he really _had_ forgotten to take his anxiety medication that morning; he was so caught up in the drama with inspection and the success of the valerian tea that actually kept him _asleep_ that it completely slipped his mind and now this_,_ now Ivan, standing there and looking sorry and heartbroken, it was just… w-was just…

He needed to talk to Feliks, but Feliks was across the row, doodling ponies or flying houses or something in his notebook. Toris needed something, anything, to keep him grounded and –

RING~!

The bell shrilled impersonally, jarring Toris so thoroughly that he ripped a hole in his notebook. He stared at it despondently, not comprehending.

"…Liet?" asked Feliks, waving a hand in front of his face. Toris looked up slowly, trying to focus. Feliks was frowning at him. "Like, that was the bell, so you're sorta gonna be late for history class? So, I suggest you leave, like, _now_." Toris blinked, moving slowly to put his books away. He realized, in a detached way, that they were the only ones left in the classroom.

"Liet. Liet!" Feliks grabbed his shoulders. "Seriously, you're scaring me. Do you want me to take you to the nurse's office?"

Toris shook his head. He was staring into the deepest, most clear green eyes, warm and familiar and keeping him sane through much worse than this.

Toris offered up a hesitant smile. "I'm fine. I'm fine, 'cuz you're here." He meant it to be a joke, but it came out far more sincere than he'd expected. Feliks stared at him, then blinked. Slowly, he grinned, kissing him quickly on the corner of his mouth. The blonde tasted of strawberry lipgloss and cinnamon breath mints.

Feliks blushed. "Come on, dork," he said good-naturedly. "Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

Feliks reluctantly slipped off to biology, though not before dropping Toris off in his history class, as they were right next door. He made sure that Eduard was in there before smiling at Toris.

"Umm… can I borrow your math notes?" Toris asked him before he ran off. "I zoned for most of the lesson, but I can copy them this period, so…"

Feliks gave him a look that was very much reminiscent of a shocked guppy, all popping eyes and pursed lips. "Why would I keep notes?" he asked. "I always just copy yours."

Toris resigned himself to never understanding _that_ lesson. He let Feliks dash to class, going to sit down front-and-center, next to Eduard, who gave him a vague wave before turning his attention back to the cellphone he was fiddling with under the desk.

"What's that?" asked Toris curiously. "A new iPhone? Its impressive-looking."

"It looks good?" asked Eduard happily, eyes fixed on his contraption. "Made it myself. It's almost…perfect…_almost_…" He sighed, suddenly slumping forward and banging his head against his desk. "It just keeps turning on, randomly." Pride and frustration prompted him to pull out the phone, waving it in Toris' direction. "I'm _not_ in a good mood."

"Neither am I," a voice boomed.

The next moment, the phone had jumped to land firmly in Mr. Milo's grasp. He glared at the guilty party (and Toris, who, while blameless, seemed to feel he deserved to be incriminated with the other. It was a personality tic that many had tried to cure him of).

"I'm not happy because a certain student of mine is texting in my class," Mr. Milo growled, putting the phone on his desk and moving to tie back his masses of silver-blonde hair, which was hanging both loose and in thin braids at the moment. It was at that moment the phone sprang life, vibrating and screeching loudly enough that Toris had to clap his hands over his ears. Mr. Milo whirled on the offending instrument, looking as if he were going to smash it to pieces, but Eduard scampered up, snatched it away, and curled himself protectively around it as he retreated back to his desk, frantically pressing buttons until, blessedly, it turned off.

The tall, Germanic teacher dropped wearily to his seat. "Fine. You win. Now, all of you, go, go… you have your group projects; get to work."

Eduard grinned thankfully, glad the incident was over, then bounded over to Toris' desk. "Ready to get to work?" Toris laughed, rolling his eyes as Eduard went to retrieve their poster from storage in the back of the room. It was supposed to be a map of the countries involved in World War Two, but, as neither Toris nor Eduard could draw, what they came up with rather looked like a bulbous smiley face. Or a game of Pacman.

The two surveyed the mess of a map they had made yesterday, feeling rather despondent.

"Well…" offered Eduard after a long, long pause. "We could always… -"

"Ksesesesesese… that's the least awesome map that I have ever seen. And I've seen a whole bunch of not-awesome maps. Because they don't have Prussia on them."

It was Gilbert Weillschmidt, the single most annoying student in the school. He was worse than _Alfred_. Back in middle school, he and Feliks had a rivalry the size of Russia, and were always competing in things. Feliks and Toris, when they worked together, usually won, but now that Gilbert was taller and stronger he began to release his frustration at being constantly beaten. Together, Toris and Feliks were still strong, but divided…

"Oh, bugger off," Eduard attempted, words brash, voice wary. Toris gripped his pencil tightly, not afraid but a little annoyed. He really didn't need this today. Eduard raised an eyebrow at Toris, covering his clenched fist with a warning hand. Gilbert noted the movement and began to cackle.

"Ksesesesese… sorry, didn't know I was ruining an intimate moment," he snorted. "Fags. And _you_," he pointed at Toris, "are a _slutty_ fag. I thought you and Feliks were fucking in your spare time but apparently you and this one –" he jerked a thumb at Eduard. "- are doing it, too." Eduard flushed, stiffening but not making any move. Gilbert was _huge, _and… and Eduard had a high respect for the rules so of course he wouldn't get in a fight.

Toris glared up at Gilbert. He remembered the days when he and Feliks could take the albino down without trouble. But Feliks was not here and Gilbert had grown into himself and really, Toris was helpless to do much but glare and hate.

He was shaking again, and a slow-burn headache sang just behind his eyes. It was the anxiety, the morning, the lack of a comforting presence and the taste of strawberry and cinnamon.

Abruptly, Toris stood. "I have to go to the infirmary," he mumbled, fleeing from the room. Mr. Milo, nose buried in _Roman Histories_, barely acknowledged his exit.

"Yeah, run away you fag," Gilbert whispered nastily at Toris' retreating back. Toris did not reply. He felt distinctly like he wasn't going to be able to hold it together.

The infirmary manager, a young-looking Ukrainian woman named Katyusha, smiled warmly at Toris.

"Hey, sweetie, are you alright?" she asked, standing from her swivel-chair at the computer desk as he entered.

"Forgot my Zoloft," he murmured apologetically. "The directions say that I can't take my other dose until tomorrow."

Katyusha nodded sympathetically. "Need to lie down?"

"I was hoping that you had something, you know, to calm me down…?" he tried. The woman just shook her head.

"Sorry, dear, I'm not allowed to give students anything that isn't prescribed. But if you really don't feel good, you can sleep here for awhile."

Toris nodded in agreement, at a loss, then sat down on the paper-covered cot that occupied the back of the office. He curled into himself, closing his eyes and trying not to think. Tried _to_ think. Anything, anything to distract him.

A million years passed, a million years of circles and spirals and knots, of innocent smiles and rough touches and pulsing anger and pulsing fear and –

"Liet?"

There was a touch on his shoulder and he jerked to face the intruder, eyes wide and darting. Slowly, his gaze focused and his shoulders slumped in relief.

Feliks' eyes were wary, but he smiled at his boyfriend. "I didn't see you at lunch, but Eduard told me that you looked sick. He also told me about Gilbert." Feliks pouted. "That stupid bitch. Just you wait, I'm going to _kick_ his _butt_."

Toris shook his head, but could not help a small smile at Feliks' words.

"Oh my gosh. Anyway, totally brought you lunch. How cool am I?" Feliks bragged, thrusting a plastic tray from the cafeteria at him. It was laden with pizza, fresh fruit, milk, and carrots; Feliks held an identical tray for himself. Furtively, Toris glanced around for Katyusha to see if it was alright to eat in here, but she was nowhere in sight.

Feliks scowled down at his food as if it had personally insulted him. "For a place with tuition more than _Oxford_, they could sure afford to feed us better. I mean, look at this, this is something that _Alfred_ would eat. I could totally go for some katarzynki now, am I right?"

Toris rolled his eyes and dug into his lunch with little appetite.

"It'd be better if someone hadn't eaten my _cookies,"_ he teased pointedly.

Feliks had the gall to look affronted.

"What does that mean?" he demanded in a fluster. "What cookies?"

"The ones on your face," replied Toris, wiping a smudge of chocolate off of Feliks' cheekbone. How he managed to _get_ it there was a mystery.

Feliks blushed and snorted. "Don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about." He took a bit of pizza, formulating a distraction. "Are you feeling better? Gonna come to class? We've only got… P.E. and Latin."

Toris frowned. He was starting to feel better, whether it was the food or just Feliks. And they had their last two classes together, so…

"Sure, I'm coming."

The little blonde's smile was bright and beautiful.


	5. Chapter 5

Toris returned to his room from studying at the library at precisely 8:00 pm so that he could finally get some much-needed sleep. He opened the door to the dorm, finding Feliks cross-legged on the bed, a mass of maroon and green fabric on his lap, a needle and thread in hand. As soon as he saw Toris, he leapt up, yelped, and ran over, clapping hands over Toris' eyes and pushing him out the door.

"Oh, my God, like _knock_ next time, Liet! Get out!"

"Feliks, what in the world is going on? You can't kick me ou-"

"Just for a sec!"

And with that, the door was slammed in his face.

Toris let his forehead fall against the door. Thirty-seven seconds passed. The hallway was cotton-silent. Then Feliks flung open the door again. "Sheesh, seriously. I mean it when I say to _knock_."

"What're you – why were you _sewing_?" He caught one of Feliks' hands in his own, eyes widening. "Are you okay?" Feliks' fingers were covered in layers of mismatched Hello Kitty bandages.

"Oh, yeah, fine, whatever." Feliks pulled his hands away, hiding them behind his back rather uselessly. "Just getting ready for Halloween. We only have, like, two weeks, right?"

Toris laughed tiredly, dumping his books by the bed. "Yeah. What're you going to be, since you refuse to be a knight with me?"

"Psh, like I'd spill. It's a _surprise_, silly. I'm going to ruin it if I tell you." Feliks looked too smug for his own good, smirking gleefully. Toris let out a snort.

"Oh, I just plugged in the hot plate and set up a cup of water so you can make more Valerian tea tonight. Do you love me or what?"

"Yes, I do love –"

Toris had to abruptly break off his sentence in order to rescue a Styrofoam cup of water from being melted into a gelatinous puddle on top of the hot plate.

"Feliks…" he groaned, throwing the cup away and instead pulling out a small, handkerchief-wrapped kettle from the drawer. Perhaps _Feliks_ was the cause of his mental problems.

"Oops," the boy giggled, unconcernedly opening his laptop and pulling up email.

Toris flopped down on the bed, groaning. They sat in comfortable silence for a short time, until the kettle began to steam. Toris hopped over and turned off the heat before the sound could alert anyone to their illicit hot-plate use. He poured a cup, turning to Feliks.

"Do you want any…?"

Feliks had his earbuds in, lost in a music video of some woman wearing huge platform heels and very little else. Toris sighed, finishing his tea quickly and shutting off the light. Feliks barely flinched, face illuminated in the blue synthetic computer glow.

Toris slipped off his uniform, collapsing into bed in his boxers and undershirt. He fell asleep to the tap-tata-tap of the keyboarding and the pounding of blood behind his eyes.

_

* * *

_

_It was dark when Toris had entered the room. He had been entreated so desperately to sneak off after lights-out, but the misgivings were making his pulse flutter wildly in vague panic. _

"_Um… It's me, Toris…"_

_The door closed with a click and he was shoved roughly against a wall, lips captured possessively…_

* * *

…_He was on the bed now, arms restrained by sheer strength, domination, as he felt the sting of teeth against skin. A knee was thrust between his legs, roughly grinding against him as if it had turned him on, as if Toris felt the lust that crawled, insect-like, out of his captor._

_Toris was quiet, biting back all noise as he felt words against his skin._

"_I love you, love you, love you; you're so beautiful, like this, opening yourself to me." In time with the words, a strong hand slipped into Toris' pants and he whimpered aloud. _

_The touch was too rough, too possessive. He felt violated, as if something precious and pure were being slowly burned. The thought made his stomach twist and knot, breath speeding but no, this was _right_ - right? This is what couples did. They expressed their love, this was simply showing his love; he'd only be a disappointment if he refused now, he had to allow this to happen._

"_Oh, yes, arch your back like that," the boy murmured, working the pants off of Toris quickly. "Let me take you. I love you Toris, I love you."_

"_A-and… ah… I love you, Ivan…"_

* * *

… _His bruises and scratches screamed along his back as he arched on his knees, being taken against the headboard, the same as every night, every night for weeks. Too rough, too rough, thrust into, no preparation – "But this is the natural way, the right way to do it, my love, lovely little one" – blood and ripping but – "The pain will pass and then it will just be you and I, together, I love you, I love you…"_

* * *

…_Flipped on his back, salty with open wounds and aching, a thumb pressed to his slack, swollen lips, forcing them open, a few more fingers slipping inside._

"_Now, I know you will not bite me like you did before, little one. I _taught _you not to do that. Relax, just relax –"_

_A pulsing, wet, bitter throb thrust entirely down his throat, one quick rocking motion, in-out-air-burn chokingcan'tbreathe but the warmth and flesh comes again, again. Toris feels his throat constrict, feels the hums and moans of the boy straddling his face and knows this is just his way of saying that he loves him; they are in love and this is what people who are in love do, this is pure and good and –_

* * *

"Liet!"

Toris woke flat on his back, arms pinned by heavy weights. He struggled in the grip, crying out.

"No, no, I don't want to do this anymore, I can't, I can't, it hurts, please!"

"Liet, Liet, it's me. It's Feliks. Liet – look at me. Just _look_ at me."

Green.

Green green green not violet, not lust crazed and fiery but warm and worried and cloudy with sleep. Feliks' eyes caught Toris', radiating comfort. Toris froze, forcing his limbs to relax, sobbing out deep breaths as the nightmare clawed at his mind. His entire body sagged in defeat, and as Feliks rolled off of him, he covered his face in his hands.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry…" The litany dripped from the corners of his eyes with tears of fear and relief.

"Shh… s'okay," Feliks mumbled thickly, eyes already beginning to droop. It was two seventeen in the morning. "M'right here. Damn that Russian bitch…" He pulled Toris close to him, and Toris buried his nose in Feliks' collarbone, taking in the milky warm scent of teen and talc. His breath came in quiet handfuls, the memories of last spring still red and sharp. This was the reason that he was so shaky, so lost sometimes; the reason his whole state of sanity resided in a few green pills. Three long months of nightly abuse, before the night that Feliks could not stand _knowing _anymore and screamed at Ivan and took Toris away and kept him close and held him together. They had always been together, but it took abuse and blood and violation for them to understand that "more than together" was what they really needed.

Feliks' fingers carded slowly through Toris' sweat-damp hair, growing sluggish as the blonde drifted closer to sleep.

Toris did not fall asleep, but he did slowly allow himself to relax, convincing himself that he was safe, listening to the still breath of the boy that he loved and the still breath of the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

Two undistinguished days later, the announcement came in English class.

"I've got quite a treat for you boys," began Mistress Helena, bustling into the room. She was a plump, matronly figure, endowed with a striking Greek nose and crinkled black-brown hair.

"This November, our school is holding try-outs for a play!" She clapped her hands excitedly. There was an expectant silence.

"Ve~! A play! That's really, really cool – we're gonna try out, aren't we, Ludwig?"

Toris swung his gaze to the back of the classroom where Feliciano Vargas was giggling happily. The flighty brunette seemed to be the only one who was amused. Ludwig, the boy that he was addressing, looked like he wanted to melt into his desk.

Feliks raised a lazy hand. "So, like, what play is it?" he drawled.

Helena turned toward him, hopeful at the sign of potential enthusiasm.

"Cinderella."

"What?"

The yell was concerted and instantaneous, twenty-eight voices raised in horrified confusion.

"B-but this is an _all boys school_," protested Ludwig from the back. "Who would play the Godmother? Or the stepsisters? Or…or… Cinderella?" Murmurs of assent rippled from the edges of the room.

Mistress Helena huffed. "In Shakespeare's time, men played _all_ the parts. I am certain that I can expect modern, superior men like you to step up to the plate, as the saying goes?"

"Hell yeah, Miz Helena, you can count on me! I'll be your Cinderella!"

It was Alfred, standing triumphantly with a foot planted on his chair, grinning widely. Most of the class snickered, and Alfred smirked. Feliks looked at him with a gaze of scornful reproach. Mistress Helena just let out a little "hmph!"

Toris knew that Feliks was planning something. And, considering the time that he spent locked in their dorm room, (and consequentially locking Toris out) stabbing himself with a needle, Toris thought he might know what was going on in the blonde's mind.

Oh god, costuming.

Quite a few unpleasant images flashed through Toris' head, most involving him being transformed into a human dress-dummy.

And, lo and behold, Feliks had a glint in his eye, a signal that he was plotting something. Toris barely heard the rest of Mistress Helena's speech on classical Greek drama and the works of Henrik Ibsen, plagued as he was by images of increasingly complicated skirts with rows of sequins.

By the end of the period, Feliks looked very pleased with himself.

"What're you up to?" Toris demanded the moment that the end-of-class bell had rung. "What crazy ideas do you have for the school play?"

Feliks smirked back at him. "You'll see."

If one thing could be said for Feliks, he certainly had a great sense of dramatic tension. Emphasis on the drama.


	7. Chapter 7

A week to go until Halloween, and Toris realized that he should probably stop worrying about Feliks and start worrying about himself – more specifically, about his costume. Oh boy… Last time that he had tried this, he had an overabundance of cardboard and was living at home with a mother who adored arts and crafts.

He made a trip down to Mr. Milo's classroom that Saturday, during the conference hours the teachers had to set aside to help struggling students.

"Toris, what're you doing here?" he had grunted, looking up from his _Latin for Dummies_ book. "I didn't assign homework this weekend, and you're certainly not failing the class. You shouldn't need any help."

"Umm… actually, I was hoping you could help me with something… extracurricular. I'm trying to find a costume for the masquerade ball." Mr. Milo just stared impassively. "I was planning to dress up as a… a knight, actually, but I'm not really sure how I should start."

At that, Mr. Milo's eyes darkened with excitement. "A knight? Well, what country? What time period? Fancy noble or hired hit man? Think, boy, there's a million things to consider. You can't just say 'knight'!"

Toris froze, his brain trying to make sense of the rapid-fire questioning. "Umm… nobles are fine, I suppose. Err… as for what country… Poland? From the…" He pulled a date out of thin air. "…fifteenth century?"

A wide, wild grin spread across Mr. Milo's face and he closed his book with a _snap_, standing up. "Why Polish, Toris? I thought that you were Lithuanian?"

The whole bloody school knew that he was Lithuanian, due to the fact that he couldn't speak a word of English when he transferred to St. Jeanne's middle school and had answered every question for weeks with the words "Lietuva". This also explained why Feliks still referred to him as "Liet" and why Toris still hated it.

"Umm…yeah," Toris replied non-commitally. "But Feliks is Polish, so I thought –"

"I have exactly what you need. It's in the equipment room in the gym."

With that, Mr. Milo stalked off. Toris had to jog to keep up with him, leaving questions behind until they reached the large, gunmetal-blue box that pretended that it was a gym. Rounding the corner, Mr. Milo pulled out a thick key from his pocket, fitting it into the padlock on a pair of external doors. The doors swung outwards, and Toris was met with a flabbergasting view.

Weapons.

They were hung on the walls, dangling from the ceiling, displayed on rickety wood tables – axes, knives, long, glittering swords, elegant bows and arrows shimmering in a million jewel tones. Sturdy wood trunks lined the walls, suits of armor mounted on dress dummies.

This was _so_ not legal.

Mr. Milo paced to the back of the room, muttering and running his hands across one of the armored dummies, pulling out a few pieces here and there. Nervously, Toris stepped closer, trying to hear what he said.

"Now, I could give you the helmet but honestly, it looks silly. I think… hmmm, you definitely don't need a mail hauberk because they can't see it, but you'll need padding –" At this, he grabbed a folded length of heavy cream cloth and tossed it vaguely at Toris. "- And a… Oh, I know. A lamellar cuirass! Very period, but not nearly as unwieldy as a breastplate –" This was what looked like a girl's tank top made of scale-like plates of leather. And it was heavy. Mr. Milo also pulled out a few mismatched plates of metal that looked to go over the shoulders, and a pair of metal greaves. Then he began to dig in one of the heavy wooden trunks, resurfacing with a soft green tunic and brown leggings. He placed them atop Toris' wobbling pile.

"There you are, Mr. Lorinaitis. That should be everything that you need. I expect that you return them the _day after_ Halloween in the _exact_ same condition that I gave them to you."

Toris nodded hurriedly. "Yes, of course, I'll definitely –"

Mr. Milo's face softened for a fraction of a moment, and the held up a hand to stop Toris.

"Wait. I almost forgot the most important bit." He moved to the wall, where a glut of… oh god, _swords_ were hung. Smiling softly, Mr. Milo chose a long, stiff blade in a thick black scabbard.

"Here," he said, beaming. "An estos. If anyone gives you trouble for carrying it, I'll deal with them myself."

Toris stared, wide-eyed, at the weapon.

"Now, off you get, enjoy your Saturday," Mr. Milo grumped suddenly, frigid, gruff demeanor snapping back into place like a falling helmet visor.

Toris took off. He had no idea what to say, anyway.

* * *

Feliks could not hold back his laughter when Toris stumbled in the door, armor clutched against his chest – although, somehow, Toris doubted that he was even trying to be polite.

"Do shut up," he grumbled. "This stuff is authentic." The sword went clattering to the ground. "And really, really heavy. Look, can you help me with this?"

"Nope. Too busy watching," snickered Feliks gleefully as Toris juggled the heavy armor bits. Finally stowing them all in the closet, Toris flopped onto the bed. Feliks giggled and flopped next to him. He rolled over on his side and grabbed Toris' hands.

"Happy Saturday," he said brightly, nuzzling their noses together. Toris' face wrinkled into a smile and he sighed in contentment.

"Don't you have math homework to do?" he asked the boy next to him.

"Aww, don't ruin it, Liet." Feliks kissed his hands, a little hesitantly. Toris examined Feliks' bandaged fingers.

"Can't you just use a sewing machine?" he asked, worry plain on his features.

"As if. It's silk! And I'm using this really nice lace on the cuffs –" suddenly, Feliks puffed out his cheeks. "Hey, you're trying to trick me into telling you what I'm making! Jerk."

Toris couldn't help but think that Feliks was adorable. He leaned forward, across the fraction of air between their skin, and pecked him on the lips.

It was simple and sweet and Toris felt Feliks smile against his lips. Gold warmth flickered in through the afternoon windowpane, gold warmth blossomed from the slow, steady movement of firm against wet. Gently, Toris brought fingers up to tangle in Feliks' cornsilk hair, bringing him just a little closer, just a little deeper. It was easy. He felt Feliks' nimble fingers against his shoulders, sliding down across his chest, then moving to his sides and his waist, mouths never breaking contact. Warm fingerpads twisted under Toris' shirt and onto bare skin.

… _darkness, violation, ripping open every inch of his body, leaving nothing untouched, dirtying his skin… Toris jerked away, heard leaping from his chest to his throat and he cried out. "No! No, no, no stop, please!" and he shoved the weight that laid next to him with all his might, curling into himself. "No…"_

"L-Liet?"

Toris' head snapped up, catching Feliks' eyes, which were magnified by tears he was just too stubborn to let fall. His hands were extended, as if he were ripped away from the boy lying across the bed from him. "Liet…? Are you…?"

Toris' breath came in ragged gasps and he couldn't move to sooth the abandoned hurt in Feliks' eyes, and Feliks was obviously too scared to touch him again.

"Sorry, sorry… I can't… I can't do this and I'm sorry but I –" Toris stood up and practically ran from the room, unable to stand the look on Feliks' face for even one moment longer. It was so hurt, so lost, but at the same time there was a spark of pity, of self-sacrifice so large that all there was room for was worry for Toris. The fact that the events of last spring were not just affecting him, but the boy that he loved the most, as well, stung deeply.

So he did what he had always done: he ran. He ran out of the dorm and down the stairs and across the green-gold sports fields and did not come back for a very long time.

* * *

He did not come back to their room until darkness had twirled in with her skirts looping across the air, until he was taunting curfew. Their dorm room was dark but for the familiar oily blue laptop screen, illuminating Feliks' unfocused gaze and he earbuds attached to his head. He didn't look up as Toris entered, buttery hall-light flickering inside for a moment until the door closed again.

Toris bowed his head, undressing and slipping quickly into bed. Again, he was lulled slightly by the tapping of the laptop keys, though tension and guilt marred the lines of his body. This time, he could not fall asleep, hyper-aware when, sometime later, Feliks shut off his laptop and crawled into bed. Feliks lay on his back and reached to grip Toris' hand again. They lay side-by-side on their backs, staring into the invisible depths of the black ceiling.

"I know you're awake," said Feliks after a long pause. "Your hand keeps twitching. Do... you want me to let go?"

"No…"

Heartbeats.

"I got a detention today, so I won't be around after Mass tomorrow."

Alarm.

"What for?"

Nonchalance.

"Doesn't matter."

He didn't want to, but Toris let it go, let everything else go just for the night and they fell asleep hand in hand.


	8. Chapter 8

**Umm hello again. I just wanted to say – I really appreciate all my reviewers, but I never got a chance to thank the anonymous ones, so I really, really appreciate it. I'm not sure if anyone really likes this… ^^;; I think I put the rating too high; its not supposed to get "good" until… oh two chapters maybe (for which I am terribly sorry, I know what you guys want…) Anyway, thank you a lot, anons, and you who signed as well.**

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* * *

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The next day, Feliks woke him at an ungodly hour to board the school bus that would take motivated students to a local church for Sunday mass. Toris could not help but wonder at the fact that Feliks would not be _dragged_ out of bed for school, yet he would be so enthusiastic for early-morning prayer.

It was the usual suspects on the bus. Antonio was there, chirpy and chipper as anything, along with his boyfriend, Romano, and Feliciano from English class. They rounded out the Catholic contingent, but the only church for miles was more of an all-denominational community center, so the bus was packed with all sorts, anyone from Lutheran to Episcopal to Orthodox Christian.

Feliks dragged Toris to sit with Antonio and the Vargas twins. Toris leaned against the dew-cold window and tried to fall asleep. Eight thirty was too early for a Sunday morning.

Feliks immediately started chattering to Antonio and Feliciano about something of little consequence. Toris met Romano's eyes. He was leaning against Antonio's chest, eyes blood-shot and only half-open. The boy looked even less amused than Toris was.

Mass passed in a daze. Although Toris himself was not particularly religious, his family was, and he was familiar with the inside of a church. He reveled in the quiet ripple of incense and the time to think. Or rather, to _not_ think. For just a little while, Toris allowed himself to let go and place all of his anxieties in something bigger than himself. He wasn't sure if the "something bigger" heard him, but it was enough for Toris that the possibility was there.

He chanted with the congregation, _Donna nobis pacem._ Grant us peace.

When the service was over, Feliks padded off to pilfer the donuts offered in the meeting room by the Over-50 club. Toris stayed put in the pews. He never liked _going_ to church, but once he got there, he felt rather grateful for Feliks' stubborn devotion and insistence.

There was a creak as someone heavy sat beside him on the wooden pew. Toris jerked his gaze away from the hands he had folded in his lap and found himself looking into the wide, sad, guilty violet eyes of Ivan Braginsky.

Toris froze silently.

"Toris…?" Ivan whispered. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes, of course, I – ah – umm, what happened to your cheek?" Toris finally managed to spit out. The Slavic boy's left cheek was marred by three shallow, puffy scratches.

"A cat… slapped me, actually."

Toris stared, confused.

"It was nothing. Toris, little one…"

Toris flinched away from the hand that moved to pat his arm.

"I-I'm sorry, but I have to – I really have to – I need to find Feliks –" Toris stood up abruptly, murmuring echoing apologies, but Ivan grabbed his wrist and would not let go. Toris' breath sped up and he jerked at the touch, but Ivan kept him captive.

"Wait," Ivan begged. "Please. I just need to tell you… Toris, love, I'm so sorry."

Toris blinked, shuddered.

"I know what I did was wrong. It was… unforgivable. Despicable. I know what I am. I just felt you slipping away from me. From the moment we began to date, I knew you really wanted to be with…him… even if you yourself did not understand, so I wanted to keep you. I wanted to claim you and make it so that you and me were one.

Toris began to tremble, memories bursting back in full force, now that he was here and could not escape. The smell of incense, so comforting before, now suffocated him, reminding him of death and myrrh. Nameless saints and angels stared sightlessly, reproachfully from their stone perches.

"No, no, no, no…"

"But I'm _sorry_ Toris. Toris. Look at me. I am sorry." Ivan's thick, strong hands grabbed Toris' chin in a surprisingly gentle way, guiding it so that their eyes met. His were full of remorse. Toris' were full of tears. "Please, I never… I never meant to hurt you. Can you… can you just say that you forgive me?"

Toris stared at him. He was serious. Oh, he could always read Ivan so well, knew when he was angry or sad or heartachingly lonely and now Ivan was nothing but deeply, deeply sorry, but all Toris could do was shake.

"Ivan…" he whispered. "I want to." He did. He had loved Ivan, truly, once. Once, it had been worth it. "I want to but I can't." The boy's face fell, sparked with danger but calmed almost immediately, waiting.

"I can't yet," Toris said, fearful of the anger he was sure to cause, desperate to preserve some sort of peace in the boy in front of him, "but, but, I will… remember. I will remember this and I will try hard and one day I … _will_ forgive you but now I just… I hurts, okay? Its hurting me and its hurting Feliks and I c-can't –" He took a deep breath, tried to stop the horrible tremble of his voice. "I can't forgive anyone who hurts Feliks,"

It was the single most painful thing he could have told Ivan. It was the only thing that he could say. The silence crackled all Toris could expect was violence and pain. He waited, panicked, for the impact.

Another figure appeared beside Ivan, standing over both of the seated students. Wang Yao. He leveled both with a golden gaze. "I was coming over to see what was wrong with Ivan, aru." He stopped, seemed to think for a moment, and restarted. "Toris, Feliks might be hurt but _he_ also hurt Ivan."

Ivan's face spasmed in panic. "Yao, this is nothing I don't deser-" His hand flew to his cheek, as if to hide the scratches there. Oh. Feliks had…

"A…cat?" Toris managed to ask. "Feliks…when…?"

"That is why he has detention today," said Yao with a huff.

"When –"

"Yesterday," interrupted Ivan. "You ran out of your room and looked upset and I wanted to follow you, but then I saw little Feliks and went to ask him what was wrong and he slapped me. And said things in Polish that I don't think were kind."

Oh, Feliks…

"I have to go," Toris murmured. "Oh God. I have to – Ivan, I can't – I'll –" Unable to finish, he spun around and left, running out of the church sanctuary and down the dull grey-carpeted hallway of the worship center. Ivan stared sadly after him, letting Yao lead him in the opposite direction.

* * *

Most of the boys were congregated in a large meeting room, eating donuts and flirting with the female students from the all-girls' school across the river. Feliks was in the corner at one of the various collapsible card tables, sipping instant coffee and locked in intense conversation with his cousin Elizaveta. The girl had a look of unholy excitement on her face, but as Toris approached, she was motioned away by an impatient-looking Roderich.

Toris barely registered the exchange. His heart pounding, he grabbed Feliks' arm. Feliks put down his Styrofoam coffee cup and flashed Toris an annoyed glance. "Like, Liet, I'm drinking here – Liet?" He was dragged out of the room, into the hallway and down a half-hall that ended in a service door. Only then did Toris grab him in a fierce hug.

"Never – do you hear me? Fucking never do something so stupid and reckless ever again!" The yell was vicious and sharp but muffled in Feliks' shoulder.

Feliks stiffened. "How'd you – Ivan. Gawd, did that stupid bitch say –"

"Don't ever!" interrupted Toris, lifting his face to stare directly in Feliks' eyes, gaze wild and red-rimmed. "He could have hurt you. Do you get it Feliks? _He could have hurt you!"_

"Liet, shut up!" Feliks squealed, putting a hand over his mouth and physically spinning him so his back was pressed against the wall. His chest was pressed to Toris', knee shoved between his thighs, perched on his toes so that he could shove their faces together, nose to nose. Toris breathed heavily under Feliks' palm, glare sparking with wetness. Feliks glared right back, petulantly.

"First of all, don't order me around," he said. "You are _so loud_ and people are going to hear us." He pulled away and stuck his tongue out. "Second, I can take care of myself, okay? I don't need anyone to keep me out of trouble." The irony of this… "And third." He put his fists on his hips. "I'm so sick of not doing anything. I've been wanting to slap that Ivan kid for sooo long and it was totally worth it. If someone hurts you, I'm going to hurt them back. Duh. So don't _even_ yell at me, ty głupi, 'cuz you and I are in this together."

There was nothing to say to that. Toris let out his eyes fall closed and slumped against the wall, his head banging against it. He held out his arms and Feliks gladly embraced him, feeling Toris pull his head into the brunette's chest. They stayed like that for a very long time.


	9. Chapter 9

Halloween night was clear and cold and dark as pitch and lit by a full, aching moon.

"Feliks, I can't seem to get this on right. Is my breastplate facing the right way?" Toris asked uncertainly from the bathroom. He'd been trying to put on the armor for the better part of an hour, but all the buckles and straps and pointy bits were incredibly confusing. Peering out from the bathroom, he saw that their room was dark and empty. Toris grunted in indignation. That little traitor had left with out him!

But as his eyes grew more accustomed to the dark room, Toris noticed a bulge under the quilt on the bed.

"Feliks?"

"Go 'way," mumbled the blonde, voice cottony under the covers. "'M sick."

Tori's first thought was _Then why are you lying in _my_ bed?_ but he pushed the thought away and sat down next to the bundle of Feliks with a heavy, armor-studded thump.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

"No, I'm not, I just told you that I'm sick!" Feliks wailed. "I can't go to the masquerade!"

"Eh…" said Toris, scrambling, "But you were so excited –"

"And now I feel like I'm gonna puke."

Toris wrinkled his nose, sighing. "Well, let me get this costume off and I'll see about maybe making you some tea –"

Feliks shot straight out of bed at that. "No way! You can't, like, miss the ball. That'd be totally not fair."

"But if you're not going, I really have no reason to –"

"No way, you _have_ to go." He scrambled out of bed and began to drag Toris toward the door with a tenacity that belied any serious illness. "You got all dressed up and you have your hair tied up all nice in a ponytail like you're off to war or something and it'd be, like, a huge waste if you didn't go and have a ton of fun."

Toris was more than a little perplexed. "But… but what about you - ?"

"Oh, I won't puke all over the bathroom, if that's what you're worried about," Feliks said off-handedly.

"That's not –"

"Go!"

And with that, Toris was shoved bodily, armor and all, out the door. It slammed closed behind him.

He blinked at it for a few moments, then called back inside. "I'll be home by midnight!" There was nothing to do but let Feliks have his way. Again.

He clanked down the steps of the dorms and out into the freezing clear yard. The grounds were lit strategically with bundles of thick, white, dripping candles, illuminating the path to the old ballroom. The nice thing about having a school so old… and, well, English… was its architecture. Multiple buildings dotted the grounds: the stone dorms with modern interiors, the halls and corridors of the academic buildings, and the clopping buttresses of the administration building, where the dining hall and the ballroom were situated.

Toris joined the throng of rowdy guys filing inside, in prison uniforms, James-Bond-style tuxedos, and a full outfit of Zorro regalia. Yep, that one was Antonio. Most of the boys had donned some kind of mask, mostly black, super-hero style eye strips. Toris slipped on his own, and old Mardi-gras half-mask in dark green. He refused to wear a hot, heavy helmet indoors, no matter how historically accurate it might be.

He slipped down the smooth marble staircase to the old ballroom, surveying the room. Although the student council had tried to add a theme, with black crepe paper and an odd amount of silver glitter (he couldn't imagine Kirkland had allowed that, yet here it was), the ballroom had an atmosphere all its own. The chandeliers, made electric only recently, cast a bright glow on the proceedings. A small string orchestra was playing classical waltzes interspersed with covers of popular music. Roderich joined them on the piano. The overall effect was strange, but not entirely unpleasant.

However, the dance floor was noticeably bare. Most of the guys were tucked into corners or hugging the snack table. Alfred, Arthur, and Francis – a superhero, pirate, and… well, someone shirtless – were engaged in heated conversation by the punch bowl.

Toris spotted his crew easily enough, loitering as they were in the furthest corner of the room. He skirted the dance floor, making his way over to them with heavy, metallic strides. Tino waved enthusiastically, his fake beard askew. Yep, he was what he was every year, a somewhat holiday-inappropriate Santa Claus. Berwald stood next to him, glaring at Lukas. They both wore nearly identical Viking costumes, though Lukas' was complete with… was that a battle-axe? Toris palmed the pommel of his own weapon, suddenly feeling grateful for its presence.

Eduard, who was resplendent in a foil-covered cardboard box that was somehow supposed to be reminiscent of a robot, ran up to him and awkwardly shoulder-punched a greeting. "Hey, Toris!" he said happily. "You look great!" He didn't wear a mask, but the silver face-paint on his cheeks gave him an unfamiliar, otherworldly look.

"Where's Feliks?" asked Lukas, slinging an arm around a bored-looking Orin, who seemed to be Robin Hood, only with pointy ears or something.

"Ill," said Toris with a sigh. "He had some kind of secret costume planned, too. He was the only reason I was going to come. I feel sorta awkward, now." His eyes flicked around the still-empty dance floor.

Tino smiled warmly through his thick synthetic beard. "Don't worry, the girls should be here soon. You'll have more fun when you have someone to dance with that will make Feliks jealous." He winked. Toris flushed.

"I-I wouldn't…"

"Wow. Would you look at those – Ow, Orin!"

The interruption came from a dazed-looking Lukas, who was staring at the marble staircase.

Oh. The girls had arrived.

It was as if the room had been frozen still with their arrival. Some thirty or so girls jostled, whispered and giggled at the landing of the stair, in various stages of undress and various states of death-by-glitter-asphyxiation. They had everyone's attention – even Toris' group, with its disproportionate amount of gay students, was not unaffected (and Lukas was being physically punished for _that_).

In pods of two or three, the boldest of the new-comers began to float down the steps. A few of the more cocksure boys stepped up and immediately asked them to dance. Most were obliged with blushes and giggles, and the floor began to fill with swirling skirts and half-remembered Cotillion dance steps. Toris idly scanned the girls, focused more on their costumes than anything, and even then only with a sense of vague detachment.

A susurrus of curiosity began to ripple around the room, however, as a group of girls appeared on the stair. Eduard elbowed Toris's side, wincing as he hit leather armor.

"Who is _that_? I call dibs,"

Toris looked up. There were three of them, attached at the hip in the confident way only pretty girls could be. Toris recognized Elizaveta, boldly without a mask and wearing what looked like a skimpy version of a European peasant-girl's dress. She immediately waved to Gilbert, who was squeezed onto Roderich's piano bench, poking him as he tried to play. The boy was wearing a knight's costume as well, Toris noted dully, though it was obviously plastic. He felt slightly better about his own ridiculous state of dress.

Elizaveta was flanked by two other girls. One, a slim, tiny blonde with ribbons in her hair and an old Victorian dress, was Lilli Zwingli, the sister to one of the boys at the school. But it was the other pretty little blonde girl that had everyone captivated.

She was decorated like a medieval lady, royalty. Her wine-red dress was embroidered with gold at the edges, and lace dangled from the cuffs. Under the overgown, a gathered cream and green bodice peered out, accented in gold as well. Her half-mask was adorned in feathers and clear rhinestones. As she slid across the floor, Toris couldn't help but notice that she walked with an air of absolute confidence. There was something unbelievably sensual about her.

God, no wonder everyone was staring, she was very, very –

"Ack. No, you have a boyfriend," Toris squawked out loud in response to the voices in his head. Eduard shot him a curious look, and Toris flushed. "Ah, no, it's okay, sorry." Mentally, he berated himself. She was pretty, sure, but she had nothing on Fel –

"Fuck yeah, she's coming this way," said Lukas with a grin. Orin hit him again.

Tino giggled, pulling Berwald away. "People are starting to show up. Lets dance!" he said excitedly.

A convenient excuse to leave seemed really good to Toris, too, especially as Lukas was right about the girl seeming like she was heading in their direction, leaving her friends with a wave and turning towards the boys. Toris thought it would probably be best to leave Lukas (or was she focused on Eduard? Not likely) to his lucky conquest.

However, Toris didn't move fast enough, and the girl was in front of them. She was slim, with the barest hint of a chest. Her smile was positively mischievous.

"You, knight," she said. "Care to dance?"

Toris was so surprised that for a moment, his eyes flicked around, wondering if another knight was in the area, if maybe she were talking about Gilbert; but no, Gilbert was across the room with Elizaveta and Roderich, so she was talking to _him_…

"Um…hello? Earth to Mars? You're spacing." The girl rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist. He noted that the color of her fingernails matched her dress.

Lukas and Eduard just stared.

The girl led him out to the dance floor. She held out her hand, palm down, fingers together. Slowly understanding, Toris knelt to kiss her hand, hearing a muffled growl from various jealous boys in the room. Toris' head spun as his arms slipped around the girl's shoulder, her waist, and they began to dance.

Immediately, the girl giggled, leaning close to Toris' face. She smelled of spices and… something else, something fruity.

"So, oh knight," she said, the hand on Toris' shoulder slipping down to his waist, threatening to go lower. "Does your boyfriend know you've got some girl _all over you_?"

Toris flushed, but didn't back away. "I – you – what? Um, how did you know… how did you know that I had a boyfriend?"

Her laugh was loud and bright and lingering, as beautiful as the spark in her deep green eyes, half-hidden behind her mask, and Toris recognized her scent, now – cinnamon and strawberry and –

Oh.

Shit.

"…Feliks?"

Then she – he – kissed him, in the middle of the ballroom, and it tasted of breathmints and lipgloss and triumph.

When it was over, Toris was not the only boy in the room who was slack-jawed. He stared. The first intelligent comment out of his mouth was:

"I thought you were sick."

Make that the first _semi_-intelligent comment.

Feliks raised an amused eyebrow. "I had to give a good excuse for why I wasn't here so that no one got suspicious. And Liet, you're, like, a horrible liar so I had to make sure that you thought it was the truth."

Toris almost pouted, not wanting to see the veracity in that statement.

"Anyway, you like it?" asked Feliks, breaking away for a spin in time with the waltz steps before twisting back into Toris' hold. "I think it makes me look a little flat-chested."

"Feliks, you are beautiful," said Toris without hesitation. "Most of the guys in this room are about to beat me up because they are so jealous. I just can't believe that you're here and you're wearing…"

Feliks grinned. "It feels good, huh? To be like this."

"Ksese…excuse me, but His Awesomeness requests a dance with this fine lady over here." A staying hand fell on Feliks' shoulder and a deep, arrogant voice squirmed through the dancers. Gilbert stood before the couple, gaze alight, eyeing Feliks as one would a shop window, full of possession and passion but little else, little appreciation or humanity. Toris prickled and was about to say something, but Feliks already had it covered.

"Hmmph!" he sniffed. "As if. Maybe if you grow up and grow a pair. And, you know, get hot."

Gilbert stared at him, speechless, possibly for the first time in his life.

"W-what?" he demanded. "I'm way hotter than… than this fag over here." He shoved Toris as emphasis. "Did you know this one has a boyfriend?"

"Umm, _yeah, _I _did_," replied Feliks with a trace of arrogant boredom. ."Gay guys are kinda hot. At least, more attractive than you, little boy." He smiled at Toris in a way that made his heart flutter in anxiety, before kissing him viciously, eyes locked on Gilbert's awestruck face.

"Now go away," said Feliks dismissively when they broke contact.

Gilbert gaped, stared and finally, marched stiffly away.

Feliks giggled. "Ohmigawd that was _so fun_! Did you see the look on his face? Priceless! Man, I hope Lizzy took pictures." Feliks kissed him again.

Toris couldn't believe it. Here he was, practically making out with his boyfriend, who was wearing a skirt, in the middle of the ballroom – completely decimating his long-time arch-rival in the process. Best Halloween ever.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Toris spotted Feliciano, a far-too-cheerful Phantom of the Opera, dragging a dog-eared Ludwig toward them.

"Ve~! Toris, why are you dancing with a girl?" he demanded bluntly. "Where's Feliks?"

"Um… sick…" Toris blushed under his mask as Feliks rolled his yes, a look confirming that Toris was, indeed, a horrible liar.

"Awww…" pouted the Italian boy. "I wanted to see his costume. Mmm… so he's sick."

Toris nodded quickly. "Yeah, really sick, got a fever and shakes and that sort –"

"Ludwig, lets go visit him! He must be so sad that he's missing the party!"

Immediate panic.

"Nonono you don't need to do that; he's actually really contagious –"

But Feliciano was not listening. He was gone, halfway across the ballroom, in fact. Toris turned to Feliks, face white.

"Well…um… they believed me…?" he offered weakly.

Feliks cussed, bending down and fumbling under his dress hem. "I was hoping I could stay longer, you know, like, past _midnight_?"

At that moment, the clock tower across the quad began to clang, causing both boys to jump, and Feliks to swear again.

"Ugh, just take these," he said, thrusting a pair of high-heeled boots at Toris. "I can't run in them. I'll see you back in the dorm, 'kay?"

"W-wait, wh- how're you going to get back in time? They're ahead of you!"

"Duh, same way I got out – out the back window and down a tree. Only, you know, reversed."

There was really no conceivable flaw with _that_ plan.

Feliks kissed him on the mouth one more time – damn; where'd he learn how to make Toris' knees buckle like that? – and dashed out of the ballroom, giving Elizaveta a peace-sign salute on the way out. The girl indulgently watched him leave, then turned and gave Toris a long, slow wink. Yeah, she'd been in on it the whole time.

"Toris!" hissed Eduard from across the room, giving a little jerky wave that could best be interpreted as "come here, _now_, bitch." The robot-boy was surrounded by others – Alfred, Francis, Lukas, and a furious-looking Orin.

Toris swallowed. Oh, no.

Dutifully, he trotted over.

"Hey, guys, wh-"

"Who was she?" demanded Eduard, flopping arms encased in aluminum washing-machine piping onto Toris' shoulders in a way that he may have thought was threatening. Considering the costume made it hard for the kid to move his elbows, that may have been a lost cause.

But then Lukas was at his ear and he was definitely more frightening, with that axe and all. "Why was she _kissing_ you?" he hissed, obviously put out. "Where'd she go so fast? Are you that bad a kisser?"

"Ummm… umm…" Oh, god, he really _was_ bad at lying. "I… dunno… her name was … Fe – Fel – Felicia! Felicia and she was umm… felt uh…sick – um –"

"Then why on earth are you carrying her shoes?" cut in Francis, eyebrow quirking.

"Umm… you see…"

"Problem here, boys?" cut in a smooth, self-satisfied, female voice. Toris found himself with an arm flung around his shoulder conspiratorially.

"Ah… hi, Elizaveta," he said weakly. "Just… telling the guys about why _Felicia_ left so suddenly. His eyes begged: _Help me_.

Elizaveta grinned, clearly promising he'd have to pay her back for this later, before turning on the jealous-looking boys in front of her.

"Felicia's a friend of mine," she said smoothly, "but she doesn't go to the girls' school; she lives in town and snuck out of the house. She was supposed to be home before midnight! Anyway, I'm pretty sure she left her shoes here so she could run better.

And because it was from the lips of a girl whose _lips_ were not the focus of any of the boys, they believed her. Elizaveta smirked at Toris. "I'll take those and return them to her." She leaned down to whisper in Toris' ear. "Liked what you saw?"

Before Toris could stop himself, he replied: "Very much".

Elizaveta's laugh was low and cackling and not unpleasant. A little ominous, but…

"I'd better go check on Feliks. He's… sick, you know," said Toris helpfully, before dashing out of the room, completely red-faced, ignoring the protests of Eduard demanding more information.

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**So… is their cover blown? What the heck is going on – will Feliks get away with it, or is he outed, in front of the whole school? I hope you look forward to the next chapter. Um… also, the "stuff" I think a lot of you have been waiting for.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I hope I did alright with them :) I do indeed love these two. I promise this is not the end.**

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The night-cool air hit Toris' face and dried sweat that he didn't even know was breaking out on his forehead. He took off his mask, fanning himself as he strode across the quad, trying not to look panicked. It wasn't really working.

He thrust open the door to his own dorm building and began to ascend the stairs. Had they gotten away with it? He was in an absolute panic, now, the closer he got to his floor. If it anyone found out that Feliks was the mysterious girl, it would hurt him so badly. It should be up to _Feliks_ when he came out, not Feliciano or Ludwig or whoever accidentally discovered his secret.

_But if they _have_ found out… is there anything that I can do?_

Still, he took the last few steps at full tilt, rounded the landing, and dashed down the hall.

Just then, the door – _his _door – banged open and out skipped Feliciano.

"-Well, I'm glad you're not throwing up anymore –" Feliciano's inappropriately loud voice toppled happily into the hallway, followed by the boy himself, as well as Ludwig, stolidly in tow as always.

The cheerful Phantom waved wildly back into the room, before turning to notice Toris, who was panting against a wall.

"Hi Toris! Feliks is fine! But he's happy we visited!"

Toris, eyes wide, shuffled to the door and peered in. Feliks…he'd made it. He was wrapped so thoroughly in the duvet that only his face was visible, grinning tiredly at the three in his doorway. His face was red and he was panting softly, but Toris knew it was from running and climbing trees rather than a fever.

"Y-yeah. But I, like –" Feliks coughed delicately. "Need rest and stuff, so…"

"So we will leave you to your recovery," said Ludwig curtly, bundling a waving, cooing Feliciano out the door.

Toris watched silently as they disappeared down the hall. Then he ducked in the door and closed it.

"Feliks…"

"Like, oh my gawd. We totally got away with it!" squealed Feliks in excitement, tossing the blankets off as he sat up. He was still wearing the dress, and smiled with utter triumph.

Toris stumbled over to the bed and sat heavily. "We got away with it…" he repeated in wonder. He began to gratefully shuck off his heavy armor.

"So, where were we on the dance floor?" asked Feliks mischievously, shifting to his knees on the mattress, moving to drape himself over Toris' shoulders. Immediately, he hissed and fell on his behind, pouting.

"Ow!" he whined. "I think I scraped my knee on the way up here."

Toris, down to sweat-soaked undershirt and breeches, shifted to look at Feliks.

He paused, swallowing hard. The boy was leaned up against the headboard, dress tucked up to his bare thighs as he inspected the shallow scrapes on his right knee. It exposed a great deal of smooth, warm, white skin, all the way up his thighs. Feliks caught him staring and smiled, part flirty and part silly with lingering relief.

"Help patch me up?" he asked. Toris nodded, hurrying to get a warm washcloth and the dwindling box of washcloth and the dwindling box of Hello Kitty bandaids. He returned to find Feliks practically sprawled on the bed, dress slipping off his shoulders and his hair wild. Toris settled between his knees and began to gently dab at the wound.

"Aww… Liet, that stings!" the blond whined.

"It'll only hurt for a second," Toris said soothingly, rubbing his calf in a comforting gesture. The land beneath his fingertips was slightly curved, slightly cut, too-smooth for a boy. Alluring. A blush wobbled to Toris' cheekbones. He shifted the dress a little higher to get better access to the scrape, but it may have been a little too much because he noted –

"Feliks…? Are you wearing … girls' underwear…?"

He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, shifting a little on the mattress. As he moved, Toris' hand slid further up his calf, to his thigh, unconsciously. "Um, well… yeah, I mean, I'm wearing a dress so I can't just slap on some boxers, right?"

Toris did not reply, trying to focus on cleaning and bandaging the scrape but that was easy, it was done. Toris placed as kiss on his knee, then one a little higher. Feliks hummed appreciatively, and Toris, unsure of his own movements, gave his inner thigh a light, hesitant lick, his fingers ghosting along the exposed flesh.

"Toris…" mumbled Feliks, half in contentment, half in something like a warning.

"Y-yes?" Toris asked, voice trembling. Oh god, what was he doing? What was his body reacting to? Why –"

"Toris, what're you doing?" Feliks asked. His eyes were fluttering closed, mouth open slightly. His cheeks hadn't lost their blush of exertion and Toris couldn't help but get caught up in the vision of something so… so _Feliks_ - his dress cascading off thin shoulders, hiked to his waist and face already so relaxed, ready, as if he wanted something, wanted more. Toris' eyes strayed to between the boy's legs, blushing, the outline of his length hinted, covered only by thin, lacy fabric. It was a moment that no one else could recreate. This was theirs.

_Theirs._

"F-feliks. Are we… are we an 'us'?" Toris murmured, gaze focused on a single pale thigh.

"Of course," pouted Feliks. "I love you and you love me, right? That's all there is to it."

"Are you disappointed that you and I haven't… can't…"

"Liet, listen." The boy felt warm, gentle fingers hook under his chin, pulling him up, forcing him so that he was practically straddling the blonde. "I will put up with whatever the heck you need me to because you just let me kiss you in public while I was wearing a dress. Okay? I can deal with it."

"But…"

"Liet, shush"

"But Feliks, I think…" He closed his eyes, screwing up his courage, trying to continue. "I think… what if we could? I – you're just – " It was so hard; he had no way of explaining why he felt such an overwhelming comfort, and overwhelming desire, but at that moment, feeling Feliks' soft breath against his wet lips and taking in the feel of a slender body beneath his thighs… he knew he could do this. He _wanted_ to do this.

"Liet, what are you talking ab – oh. Shit."

Slowly, unable to say what he wanted, unable to express what he was feeling in words, Liet very carefully pressed his lower body against Feliks' bare thigh. He was fully hard. He looked up at Feliks, guilt straining his face, knowing this was probably wrong but at the same time, maybe Feliks wanted it too.

Feliks bit his lip, as if deciding something, then determinedly pressed his own hips against Toris. Toris' eyes went wide, feeling a smooth, half-hardness against his hip, elation jumping to his stomach like a poison. He stared at Feliks' face, trying to understand, realizing they both wanted this, on some level, realizing that this could happen. It could really happen.

"Feliks…" Toris whispered, then, because he could think of nothing else to do, he dropped into a long, serious kiss. He felt Feliks gasp beneath him, moving his lips slightly, parting them. Toris' brain reeled, and he slowly let his tongue dip inside the blonde's mouth, the hands that had braced themselves on his shoulder shaking slightly. Already, they were in deeper than they had ever been together. Maybe too deep to back out again.

Feliks broke the kiss, licking his lips as if the taste against them was foreign. "Liet, are you sure you wanna do this?"

Toris shook his head. "I don't know, but… but Feliks I love you and I know that you will never hurt me and I just want to be with you. I want it more than anything. I don't want anything to get between us anymore because I know that I've been pushing you away and I can't let that happen anymore. I won't."

"Liet, don't you dare do this just because you think you have to _prove_ something." Feliks looked like he was glaring, and his face closed off. "That's not what this is supposed to be about."

"It's not that!" Toris exclaimed, tensing. "No, oh Feliks, its not – I just – I love you and I want to show you that. I love you so much and…" He raised his eyes, trying to meet Feliks' gaze, trying to explain himself "… and I really, really want you right now."

Feliks looked him straight in the face. His eyes were smiling.

"If you want me so bad, then take me." The blonde leaned up, pressing their lips together and pulling Toris down to his level. Toris gasped at the sudden movement, his mouth opening wide in invitation. His hands slipped down Feliks's shoulders, bringing the loose fabric of the dress – it must have been unclasped in the back – sliding down his arms, revealing a slim, pale chest, angular bones, skin soft and clean and smelling of the talc that always found its way into Feliks' scent. Toris broke away and gently kissed his collarbone.

He felt Feliks' breath ghost through his hair, speeding up, so Toris kissed lower, across the dip of his throat, feeling the muscle there tense as Feliks' head tossed back. He kissed down his sternum and then drifted to the left, feeling the vibration of a pounding heartbeat against his lips. His hands pushed the dress down Feliks's body, off his hips and further, taking the silky underwear with him, until he could see the body below his wandering hands.

He was… well, it was true. He was beautiful.

Feliks shifted uncomfortably, a blush spreading from his ears and the bridge of his nose, down his neck. It made Toris' eyes widen, realizing that he was seeing Feliks, completely naked and vulnerable beneath him for the first time.

"Stop staring." It started as a rebuke, but trailed off in an embarrassed whisper. "Not fair – you're still wearing stuff."

Toris blinked, tearing his eyes away from the body spread out on his mattress. Hesitantly, the brought his undershirt over his head, then carefully slipped out of his trousers. Finally, he hooked his fingers beneath the elastic on his boxers, drawing them off as well.

They stared at each other for a long time, neither one willing to move, both flushing and hard and so self-conscious that it hurt. Finally, Feliks raised his hands, reaching tentatively toward Toris. Toris leaned into the embrace, and leaned down for a kiss.

It went fast from there.

It was easy, after that, strangely so. Their bodies pressed together, erections brushing, and they rocked together, chasing friction. The movements were shaky and hesitant, but honest and unrivaled in their intention. Short, muffled moans echoed between them, hands moving across ribs and vertebrae, shifting muscle and soft skin. It was clumsy and desperate and unique in a way it could only be with the two of them.

Toris had never felt like this; neither had Feliks, but it was the one who demanded the next move, fumbling a hand under the mattress to find a small tube, an a condom packet.

"H-here, Liet," panted Feliks, letting out a soft moan as Toris' hips rolled against his in a natural, steady rhythm, a rhythm they both somehow knew by heart. He handed over the supplies, pressing them into Toris' palm.

For a second, Toris froze, unable to move. In part of his mind, he was surprised that Feliks had this at all, never mind hiding it under their mattress, but it was quickly overwhelmed by flashes of memory, of ripping and tearing and no preparation, the "natural" way, the way it was supposed to be, just skin and skin and blood.

Feliks struggled to sit, grabbing Toris' cheeks and trying to stare into his eyes. Toris was shaking and flushed.

"Liet? Liet, its okay, we don't have to do this tonight, its okay, so calm down, okay, just look at me."

Toris took a deep, unsteady breath, again inhaling that familiar cinnamon-strawberry-talc smell and he wasn't going to let anything separate him from this boy and this scent and the reality of what they were, who they were together. He took the condom packet from Feliks' fingers, kissing him firmly and fitting the contents over the blonde's cock in a shaky, unpracticed motion. Feliks let out a whine, arching up into the touch.

"Wait, wait, I thought – hah – I thought that I'd be the bottom –" A particularly forceful squeeze shut him right up.

"Just let me do this, Feliks," said Toris breathlessly, slicking up fingers and leaning back to insert one quickly into his entrance. He took a sharp breath through his nose. It didn't hurt; he was surprised. For once, it didn't hurt.

Feliks, sitting in front of him with legs spread, had his gaze locked on the erotic sight, fingers lightly teasing his erection as he watched his Liet, his boyfriend, preparing himself.

"Liet," he breathed, eyes beginning to fall half-closed, "You… you look amazing. But you have to, like, hurry up or else I'm not gonna make it." Inexperience was evident; this could not last much longer, for either of them.

Toris had to laugh, a chuckle through his nose. He removed his two fingers and stared at the boy before him.

He could not think of this moment as simply and exercise to free himself of memories of the past. For this single breath, the past simply _did not matter_.

Toris' fingers wrapped around Feliks'. With his other hand, he lined himself up and slipped Feliks' length inside himself. It was a jerky movement, and he felt it catch against one ring of muscle, than the other. Sharp gasps and breaths of pleasure and adjustment echoed from both boys, fingers squeezing tightly against each other as they slid together. Finally, Feliks was fully sheathed. Both opened eyes that they did not know they had closed.

"Together forever, right Liet?" Feliks asked with a stripped-away, honest smile.

Toris smiled back. He began to move his hips.

"Mmm…" Feliks groaned, felling the hot wetness of flesh all round him, a sensation he had never even dreamed about. He clapped his free hand over his mouth to stifle the sound, but Toris worked it away.

"Its.. anh… cute, " he managed to say, before moaning himself, feeling his prostate brushed. Feliks had the nerve to giggle.

Neither of them lasted long, inept movements growing quickly more off-rhythm, though more desperate and fierce at the same time.

"Liet…!" Feliks called, the name stretched to a high-pitched whine. He came quickly, and Toris palmed his own erection, the stimulation enough for him to follow. Shakily, Toris rolled off of his boyfriend and onto the mattress.

"Ugh, this stuff is grody," mumbled Feliks as soon as he could get a proper breath. "Next time, you wear a condom, too."

Toris just beamed, suddenly giddy as he cleaned the both of them as best he could.

"Aw, forget it," said Feliks, pulling the boy down and snuggling into his chest. "I just wanna cuddle."

Toris kissed his hair, laughing. "We... you and I…"

"We're lovers now, aren't we?" asked Feliks.

"I loved you from the beginning."

"Psh, you know what I meant. Cleverness sooo doesn't suit you." Feliks nosed into Toris' neck, tickling his skin with every warm breath.

"… Thank you Feliks. For everything."

"My pleasure. Like, literally. I'm … surprised."

"Me too. Maybe it was the dress."

The ensuing fit of giggles lasted a long time.


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm sorry for not updating sooner (ehh... again, you probably don't care) and I'm not sure when I'll be updating next. I'm afraid the chapter after this needs serious revising, and possibly some additions. I'll see if I have time - but NaNo is here, too! *frets***

**But in whichever case, I hope you enjoy this.**

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Two and a half weeks passed in a daze. November, to teachers, meant cold and wet, meant students should be inside doing _vast stacks of homework_ rather than having hobbies, or anything resembling a life.

But Toris and Feliks managed fairly well anyway. Because, of course, they had to make sure that he events of the night of the masquerade ball were not just some magical, Halloween-night fluke.

Safe to say, they weren't.

The walls surrounding Toris' whole body, the transparent barriers that had kept him and Feliks apart for so long, had vanished completely. It didn't hurt that most movements of intimacy occurred in a certain pair of pale pink pajamas. That was how it worked; because Toris could _feel_ Feliks, so tangibly in every dizzying breath. There wasn't room for fear.

So time passed, and one day Feliks bounded over to their regular table during lunch, clicking down his tray and straddling the bench in an entirely inappropriate manner, leaning forward to grin expectantly at Toris.

"You are going to meet me in the auditorium at four o'clock today."

"Huh?"

"Just do it. Be there exactly at four o'clock, okay? Or else I'm gonna be, like, totally pissed."

"…sure? Why?"

"Just do it." Feliks repeated, rolling his eyes and flipping his hair. Toris noted, with some surprise, that he was wearing sparkly blue hairclips, placed unobtrusively behind his ears.

Orin sat down at the table, sans Lukas. The rest of the crew – Tino, Eduard, Raivis, even Berwald – looked up in concern. If Lukas was not following Orin around, he was either planning something, or something was wrong. Either way, it boded ill.

"He's on some kind of crusade," muttered Orin darkly to the unspoken question.

"Wh't?" asked Berwald monosyllabically, his dark face growing fractionally darker.

"That girl, the one from the ball that _Toris_," he shot a half-glare in the boy's direction, "was dancing with all night – he's obsessed. Wants to find out who she is."

Toris' eyes widened. Oh no, had they gotten caught?

He glanced over to Feliks – who was laughing so hard he had almost fallen face-first into his pizza.

"Oh, my gosh," he said, giggling. "I haven't heard a lot about this mysterious girl. Why does he like her so much?" He asked with a sneaky look.

"Well, she was pretty," said Eduard. "I mean, really pretty. You could tell she had a nice body under that dress."

Toris blushed deeply, trying to become invisible. Feliks was pinching the inside of his palm to keep from laughing.

"She was good looking for a girl that age," agreed Tino pleasantly. "Although maybe you're asking what she looked like? She had blonde hair, cut almost to her shoulders – about the same length as yours, Feliks – and apparently she took a shine to Toris because she dominated-" Gigglesnort from Feliks "-his attention all night. Flat out refused Gilbert in front of everyone."

"Toris, what were you doing dancing with some strange girl all night while I was sick in bed?" Feliks asked, eyes shining with absolute deviousness.

"I was mad at you for leaving me alone all night," Toris shot back, glaring. Why was he _baiting_ everyone? They were sure to get caught if he kept going!

"Anyway," interrupted Orin. "Apparently Lukas got a good look at her shoes and is off on a mission to find her."

"Like Cinderella?" asked Eduard incredulously.

At that, Feliks slapped the tabled, bit his lip, and bolted, laughing so hard that he stumbled. The table watched him until he had giggled his way out of the cafeteria. Then they turned to Toris.

He held up his hands in a gesture of defense.

"I have _no idea."_

_

* * *

_

Three thirty, and Toris stood in front of the ampetheatre, staring at the closed doors, bright with neon posters announcing the auditions for _Cinderella_ today. Toris wondered, with increasing worry, if Feliks' insistence that he was her exactly at four had something to do with the play. But auditions started at three o'clock, not four o'clock, and besides, tech obviously needn't attend. Toris frowned, with a sinking feeling that it would all be explained soon.

He pushed open doors to the lobby, then, more carefully, those to the house proper. Only the first few rows of seats were filled, by milling students and acting hopefuls. A single spotlight was fixed on a dark, bare stage, with a row of boys lined up across the circle of light.

Mistress Helena stood boldly on the edge of the stage, issuing orders.

"…Alright boys. All those up for Prince Charming, thank you for your audition. Next, I need everyone who wants to be Cinderella to come to the stage."

Immediately, the Prince Charming hopefuls scattered, tripping over each other to be the first off the stage. But, to Toris' surprise, a few boys actually began to file _on_ stage. Wow. Why would guys…?

Then it hit him. It was _Alfred_ and his jock friends. Gilbert was with him, as well as Lukas, obviously haven given up one Cinderella for another. In all, it was five boys, all looking incredibly smug and self-satisfied.

Mistress Helena clapped her hands happily.

"Alright, boys! I trust you have monologues and sixty-four bars of music prepared! I can't tell you how proud I am to have pioneers with the real spirit of theatre!"

And Alfred F. Jones, famous football player and knucklehead extraordinaire, sashayed into the spotlight.

Chuckles reverberated around the room; he had a football jersey tucked up into itself, exposing his midriff, as if it would make him more feminine.

"Miz Helena," he said in a southern drawl that was even higher and more squeaky than his regular accent. "I'm sooo ready for this."

He proceeded to recite, and mangle, exactly half of Hamlet's to-be-or-not-to-be speech in his high, fluty falsetto before Helena stopped him, eyes wide in horror. He didn't get to sing.

The rest of the auditions were no better. The boys swayed their hips, sang in high-pitched voices, and pretended to make out with each other.

_Is this what Feliks wanted me to see? Idiots acting like… idiots…?_

He checked his watch. 3:59. He was here, right on time. Where was Feliks?

On stage, Helena looked as if she had given up all hope.

"Alright, boys…I officially call auditions to a close. This will be a very difficult decision," she sighed, stifling a glare at the Cinderella hopefuls, none of whom seemed serious in the least, "but I will hold call-back in –"

"Um, excuse me?" a very familiar voice broke in. Toris looked up, eyes darting across the stage. And there was Feliks, only his head peeking out of the wings as he caught Mistress Helena's attention.

He was wearing a headband.

"Y'got one more auditioner or whatever."

Mistress Helena blinked. "Oh. Feliks. You're auditioning?"

"Yep," he said with a smile. "For Cinderella."

And then he slipped into sight and Toris caught his breath.

Feliks was wearing a skirt.

On stage.

In public.

The boys in the front seats began to wolf-whistle. Feliks just proudly raised his chin, finding Toris' eyes in the dark seats. He winked.

It was the same outfit that he'd been wearing the first time Toris saw him like this, in their room – a short skirt and blouse, knee socks, shiny black shoes – the girls' version of their own uniform. But it also looked different somehow, or maybe it was just Feliks. He... he was practically glowing, his whole posture screaming confidence, screaming "fabulous". And Feliks' smile was more relaxed and honest than Toris had ever seen it. The little blonde looked as if, for once, he was exactly who he was born to be. It blew Toris away. This was the Pole in his natural state. It was terrifying. It was –

"So, like, can I sing now?" asked Feliks, still smirking at the uproar he was causing in the audience.

Mistress Helena's mouth was gaping open. Hurriedly, she shut it, then opened it again. Then she grinned in unholy glee and nodded. "Yes, please. And what will you be singing?"

"Um… totally forgot what it was called, but its from the musical, so can I just do it?"

Again, Helena nodded, taking an accompaniment CD from Feliks and clicking it into the stereo at her side. Weak, tinny music filtered out, and Feliks sat himself on the edge of the stage, carefully arranging his skirt before beginning to sing:

"_In my own little corner, in my own little chair, I can be whatever I want to be…"_

His singing voice could not be mistaken for a girl's but it was light and even and hit most of the notes and right then, it was the most beautiful thing Toris had ever heard, flats and sharps and all. He recognized this moment as a shift for Feliks, as deep and jarring as the night of the ball had been for Toris himself. He was coming into his own. He was beautiful.

"…_Then I'm glad to be back in my own little corner, all alone in my own little chair."_

The room stood silent, breathless and completely unsure how to act, what they were supposed to do in the face of such an anomaly.

Toris stood up and began to clap, and Feliks' eyes lit up as if this was the greatest ovation that he had ever received. He stood , bowed gracefully to the shocked crowd, and leapt off the stage, running over to Toris and dragging him out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Good law NaNo killed me. BUT I WON *is excited***

**This seems like filler; I'm sorry. Its not. I just... I love Ivan. Please, tell me that you do, too? He's a good kid. He really is. Stupid and impulsive, but a good kid. **

**I know where this is going. I know what comes next. Now, just for time to write it.**

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Yao sometimes felt very lucky that he had family who went to the same school that he did. It meant free labor. He liked that.

"No, no, the tape is further to the right, aru!" he scolded his brother, Yong Soo. The freshman was poised precariously on a ladder, trying to take down the decorations from the Masquerade ball. Alfred and Arthur, who were _supposed_ to be helping Yao do this, had put off clean-up duty for almost three weeks now. The teachers were getting annoyed, as was Yao. So he felt the need to step in.

"Why do you have to use transparent tape – even if it _was_ invented in Korea!" Yong Soo complained. The kid was taking marketing and business classes for his elective, but was obviously a slow study. His default answer was that everything originated in Korea. He was right surprisingly often.

"I do not care where it was invented," Yao snapped at his brother. "It's just a little further over to the right!" The tape was holding up the metallic silver garlands that had decorated the ballroom during the masquerade. Yong Soo stretched towards it, but it was just out of his reach.

The smart thing for the boy to do would be to move the ladder. The easy thing to do was to lean forward just a hair further –

"Oww!" Yong Soo wailed, ending up on the floor and nursing a bump on his skull that was already beginning to show and purple. The ladder clattered to the ground beside him. "Yao-yao, you did that on purpose!"

"Did not, aru. You are just an idiot."

"I bet that I lost a million brain cells!"

"That implies that you had brain cells to loose!"

Yong Soo pouted, then abruptly stopped pouting. That wasn't a good sign.

"Hey, Yao~" he said with a saccharine smile. "I think I deserve a reward for helping you clean this up."

Yao eyed him warily. "What do you mean, aru? I already promised you snacks."

"But I want your boobs!" the younger boy cried, suddenly launching himself at the student council president. Yao let out a yell, barely dodging and taking off at a run.

"Yong Soo, I will not tolerate this – no! We still have to clean up! Stop fooling around and – put down those scissors; what are you -?"

Kiku, the other part of the forced labor camp, strode into the room, carrying trashbags for the decoration refuse. He looked at the cavorting pair, sighed, and sat to fill the plastic bags.

Yao continued to rant; being chased around the room was not good at all, for someone his age!

"Yong Soo, so help me, if you do not stop in five seconds – oof!"

Too busy yelling back at the boy to tell where he was going, Yao found himself stopped in his tracks by a collision with a very strong, very tall body. He looked up from where his nose was buried in tan-colored outer wear. Yong Soo had halted a few paced behind.

"Ah, Jao, just the person I was looking for," Ivan said pleasantly. The freshman backed away, fleeing to where Kiku was trying to inconspicuously hide himself behind a few full trash bags. Yao, on the other hand, was blushing and staring at Ivan with a half-hearted glare.

"You were looking for me?" he asked, trying to sound officious or knowledgeable or something other than surprised and out of breath.

"Da. I … would like to talk to you, if that is alright? I know that you are busy, but…"

"No, no. Sit down, aru." Yao pointed at the foot of the grand staircase (which was, subsequently, the furthest point in the room from his siblings). Yao looked suspiciously up at the other boy. "This isn't about Mr. Łukasiewicz again, is it? I don't know what got into him the other day, but he's trying to start a fight, I'm sending him to the principal's office so fast –"

"Nyet, no, Jao! He's right to be angry."

Yao's eyebrows furrowed. "You are joking. Why would he be angry at you? You are a nice person, I can tell, aru."

"No. No, Yao, I am not. Besides…" Ivan looked anywhere but the boy next to him. He glared once at the other boys in the room, making sure they were not listening. "It wasn't Feliks that I hurt, in any case. It was Toris."

Yao didn't know what to say, after that, so he didn't say anything; just waited.

"You know that Feliks and Toris are going out, da?"

"Well, of course, aru, the whole school knows! It's only been a few months but they're already indecent…" he huffed. "They think I don't notice that they sleep in the same bed, aru, but I do."

Yao could not help but notice the very slight frown that Ivan gave when he said that. The boy hid his face in his scarf, mumbling something that Yao could barely understand.

"Before that… Toris was going out with me, did you know that?"

"…ah… no…" Yao admitted, feeling his chest constrict a little.

Ivan didn't even seem to mind the sparse response – it just seemed as if he some wall had been broken inside him and words kept coming out.

"We were going out but every moment of every day, even when he was kissing me, he was thinking of someone else. He was thinking of Feliks. And he didn't know – Jao, he didn't even understand it himself, but I _did. _I saw it and because I loved him I wanted to keep him with me. Do you understand? I wanted him to stay near me forever, not with someone else!"

Yao put a slim hand on the bigger boy's arm. "That makes sense. That's what everyone wants."

"But no one should do what I have done…" murmured Ivan into his scarf. "I hurt him."

"Hurt Toris?"

Ivan hung his head "Yes. I made him sneak out at night and I made him do things he did not want to do. I hurt him and I told him it was because I loved him. It was the only thing I could think of doing to make him stay."

Yao frowned. "Ivan, aru…"

Ivan looked up suddenly. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have told you this. Now you are upset."

Yao shook his head, biting his lip. "Why _did_ you tell me, then? This sounds like an apology, aru. Its not something I should be hearing. Its something you need to tell… to tell…" He couldn't say Toris' name, for some reason.

"I know it is, but I just needed someone to order me to do it."

"I feel used, aru."

"You don't sound angry."

Yao really wasn't. "Just go. I want you to make things right, aru."

Ivan nodded, standing up. "Thank you. Thank you, Jao. You are a good friend. I … if it were some other time, Jao, maybe I would love you." He walked out of the room, then.

Yao was left behind on the step, watching him go.


	13. Chapter 13

**Do you think this is a bit dialogue-heavy? I'm just doing an experiment… you see, I wrote a play that was loosely based on this fanfiction some time ago, but I changed the ending. Well, these last few chapters are ripped right off the play, which is, by definition, dialogue-heavy. Just kind of an explanation I guess? I sort of like it, but I'd love to know what you think.**

**Also: Kai-chan. I don't know who you are or why you remain anon, but thank you so much for all of your faithful reviews. I haven't got a chance to thank you properly, so please count this as such right now.**

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"I did it – Liet, Liet look at me!" Feliks gushed, dragging Toris into their dorm room and dancing a little, a jig, and his loafers clicked.

"I'm looking, really," Toris replied. He _was_ looking – he was floored. There wasn't a thing that he could say; Feliks was standing right there, twirling. He looked so _happy_. Actually, he looked like he was freaking out a little bit – the little blonde grabbed Toris' shoulders and shoved their faces so close that they bumped noses. He giggled.

"Oh. My. God. I did it. I actually did it!" Feliks said, pushing Toris onto the bed and sitting next to him, leaning on a shoulder. Punch-drunk, the kid was.

"You did great, Feliks… you look beautiful."

Feliks laughed and fell back onto the bed, arms spread wide.

"I can do this. Wear what I want, be who I want. I can do it."

"Feliks… you know that it's not the end, don't you?" Toris said carefully, sadly.

"… yeah," Feliks agreed, sober but not anxious. Toris, however, _was _anxious.

"You didn't stay long enough to hear what they thought," Toris warned, pushing.

"I don't _care_ what they thought!" Feliks announced, flapping his arms like a snow angel and laughing. "I don't care a bit!"

"But _I_ do!"

Feliks stopped moving.

"…what does that mean?" he asked, sitting up abruptly so that he could stare at Toris, eyes searching, sharp and deeply… insecure. Toris noticed for the first time that he was insecure, had been since they stepped into the room.

"Is this embarrassing for you?" Feliks asked suddenly. "I mean, I … I didn't warn you. That was totally stupid. I should have told you, huh? I wanted it to be a surprise but I guess I totally understand if this… is weird for you. I just didn't think it would matter to you so much, what people think."

Toris frowned. Feliks sounded… not angry. He sounded hurt, a little. "Feliks, that's not what I meant. I swear to god you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Especially right now. I just – people are going to get angry. They're going to be mean or they're going to want to hurt you. I don't want that to happen, okay?"

"Not everyone is a villain, Toris," Feliks snapped.

"It only takes one."

Feliks flinched, broke their gazes, glared at his bare knees.

"Feliks…" Toris whispered, trying to reach for him. The boy shrugged away, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm not scared."

"Yes, you _are_."

"Not as scared as you are!"

"So what if I am?" Toris demanded, clenching his fists. This wasn't fair. All he wanted was for his boyfriend to stay _safe._ Was that too much to ask? He didn't want anything to happen to him – what was _wrong_ with that?

"I don't need your help," Feliks pouted.

"Remember what you just said?" Toris pointed out, childishly. "You didn't _ask_ for it."

Feliks' entire body tensed, snapped into place, his back completely straight, his fists balled up in his sheets. He stared at Toris, eyes frozen.

"Should I have to?" he mumbled numbly, less of a question, more of an accusation, or at least that was the way it hit. Without another word, he stood and stalked out of the room.

Toris took half a second too long to process what had happened; by the time that he could move again, Feliks was gone from the room.

"Feliks, no!" he shouted, scrambling to his feet and trying to follow. "You didn't let me finish – I never meant –"

He ran to the door – only to be stopped by something warm and solid and soft and so cruelly familiar –

"Ivan-!"

"Toris, love, _please_," Ivan said, putting his hands on Toris' forearms.

Half a moment to grow from frustrated and worried for the boy he loved to terrified and trapped. Such a violent shift left Toris shaking desperately.

"N-no," he murmured. "No, Feliks, I have to –"

"Feliks ran away. It is too late to catch up. Please, Toris, let me talk to you."

Toris shook his head with a jerky movement, backing up a step, only to have the Slavic boy follow him. He was babbling now, but he couldn't stem it, couldn't think of anything beyond the figure in front of him. "No… no, my dreams were going away, I was okay. I didn't have panic attacks and Feliks and I –"

"Toris, please, just let me talk to you!" Ivan's face was twisted with something that could only be called grief but Toris could only step back further, wanting to fight, wanting to curl up on the ground, wanting to not be here. "Toris, love…" Toris' back hit a wall and his breath hitched; he was trapped. Ivan reached out, touched his cheek, and he flinched away, pulling himself as close to the wall as he could, wanting to disappear, wanting to _die_. "I know I have no right to be here, but I have to tell you that – that I am so, so sorry. Toris, do you understand?"

"You aren't sorry." The answer was wooden and without inflection, but his body was tense and trembling.

"Toris, I _am_. I only wanted to keep you near me – I did horrible things, but I did them because I love you. Do you understand?"

"Feliks told me… that if someone loved you, then they wouldn't try to hurt you," Toris said, his voice a near whisper, still looking anywhere but Ivan.

"Then why was he crying?"

A deep and painful silence.

"W-what?"

"When he ran down the hall. Just now. He was hurt. If you are right, then you do not love him, because you hurt him."

Toris' head shot up at that, staring into Ivan's eyes with rage and hurt and desperation behind his gaze, at the boy, at Feliks, at the whole world, at everything that had brought him to this moment. "I love him! I never hurt him on purpose. But you did! You hurt me and you hurt Feliks and I can't forgive anyone who hurts Feliks, not ever!" He was almost screaming now, and maybe Ivan backed up a few steps, maybe he flinched.

"But you hurt –"

"I _know!_ And be assured, I won't forgive myself so easily either!"

"Oh, Toris… I'm so sorry."

"I know. Doesn't change much. L-leave, Ivan."

"I cannot."

"Please. Leave." And surprisingly, Toris' voice grew stronger, not weaker.

Another figure appeared at the door – Yao, the floor prefect. "I heard yelling. It is almost time for lights out and I do not want to hear fighting, aru. I don't know what is going on, but I must intercede." He looked out of breath, as if he had run, as if he had been following someone…

Toris' rage had not died, he was mad with anxiety and fear and guilt and he turned it on the newcomer. "Then where were you last year, then, when all of this started? Why didn't you stop him then?"

Yao's voice turned hard. "From what I heard, Ivan only did it because you were unfaithful and heartless."

"No, no, Jao, I did not say -"

"What would you _know?"_ Toris demanded. "No one understands, no one but Feliks!"

"I said stop yelling, aru!" Yao said, raising his own voice. "I will not hesitate to write you up for a detention."

"Detention? Is that all you can do to me? I don't care anymore!" Toris yelled. He really didn't – all of it, he just wanted to fall asleep, just black out for a day, a year, forget what was happening.

"Jao…" Ivan said, quietly, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I didn't want to start a fight. I think we should go."

"But –"

Ivan shook his head, putting a gentle hand around his waist and guiding him out. "Toris…" he paused at the door. "Toris, I'm sorry."

Toris did not move. Ivan and Yao left. Toris watched them go, unsure if he wanted to cry or scream or pass out –

Berwald burst into the room, brushed past Toris, and began to rifle through drawers, coming up with some underwear and Feliks' pink pajamas. Toris, shocked into silence, watched him.

"He's st'ying 'n our room," Berwald mumbled by way of explanation. "I d'n't understand th' fight, b't y'can make up 'n the m'rning."

Toris stared. "I didn't mean – I only wanted to –"

"Keep 'im s'fe. Got 't." Berwald cut him off. "W'n't shut 'p 'bout it. 'e's s'rry, too. Go t'bed. Fix 't in th'morning."

Toris shook his head. "Berwald, can you tell him –"

Berwald looked straight at him with his piercing, glaring eyes, but there was a deep tenderness hidden inside them. "Tell 'im y'rself," he said kindly. Toris was silent as the larger man left the room, closing the door behind himself.

Toris sank to his knees, utterly exhausted. He wanted to sleep, but the bed looked so big … he put his forehead on his knees and closed his eyes.

It was a long time later, woven between blackness and blueness and greyness and half-sleep that Toris faintly registered the creaking of an opening door. He didn't look up, still groggy, unfocused. There was a paused of bare feet on the floor, then someone warm and soft and smelling faintly of cinnamon sat beside him, putting their head on his shoulder. Toris let out a breath, sure he was dreaming.

"Feliks…"

"I can't sleep. Like, why aren't you in bed?"

"Too big…" Toris murmured. They stayed on the floor, silent and warm, for a long moment.

"I totally shouldn't have gotten angry," Feliks said sadly.

Toris tried to get out every word that he had been holding up since Feliks ran out. "You know that I have never meant to hurt you. You said that if someone loves you they would never hurt you, but I didn't mean –"

"Shh… I know, Liet. Everyone makes mistakes, right?"

"You forgive too easily."

"You're right to worry. I know what the people here are like. I know it's dangerous."

Toris shook his head. "No. No, you don't have to worry about that, okay? Because…" he took a deep breath. "Because I'm going to protect you, with everything I have."

No response.

"Feliks, I mean it."

"I know…"

There were tears on Feliks' cheeks. Maybe there were some on Toris', too.


	14. Chapter 14

**One more chappie after this one, I guess? :3 Well, this is the end-ish but I have an epilogue of sorts. **

**Hey, exciting thing – earlier on, I mentioned I made a play based off of this story. I was lucky enough to have it performed at my school, and I'm almost positive my friend recorded all/almost all of it. When I get it in a usable format, I will put it up on YouTube. If you are interested, I'll put up an extra chapter with the keywords on YouTube, so you can find it if you'd like. ^^Plus a link in my profile. It's really, really bad, actually. We sucked and there were like nine people in the audience but it was the best thing that ever happened to me and my actors are amazing. I got two guy friends to stage kiss. And yes, some guy DOES wear a sexy dress. He looked amazing, too.**

**Anyway. Story. Right. **

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That morning, in the dining hall, things were in an absolute uproar. Gilbert was yelling to everyone within earshot, and most of the other boys that had been at play try outs were whispering in groups, still unable to believe what had happened yesterday.

"Did you hear?" Gilbert exclaimed, running over to Roderich the moment he saw the other boy. "About that… that kid! I was there. He – it – he – was wearing a skirt. I knew he was a little girl. Man, it was only a matter of time!"

Roderich frowned. "You are overreacting. Just because he's in a skirt doesn't mean that there is anything wrong with him."

"What is more wrong than a guy in a dress? It's practically against nature! But he was always so… well, you know."

"Usually, Gilbert, I can put up with a fair bit of your ridiculousness, but you are crossing the line," Roderich sighed. Heaven knew he had the patience of a saint, to hang out with the albino boy during school hours and listen to him complain and posture and watch him show off in the halls and generally be 'awesome' (or so he believed). Roderich sometimes wondered why he did it, but that just brought up unpleasant thoughts on his part, and no satisfactory answer.

"It sounds like you're on his side," Gilbert grunted.

"There should be no 'sides'," said Roderich, waving off the other boy tiredly. "He's trying to be who he thinks he should be and if has nothing to do with you, so could you please stop harping about this? I have a calculus test this morning that I would like to study for, so –"

Roderich cut himself off, blinked, and stared as the entire dining hall went stone-silent. Two figures were standing in the doorway, the taller looking spooked but determined, the shorter, only defiant. Toris stood behind Feliks, hand on his shoulder. Feliks was proudly wearing a skirt.

They walked into the room to the heart-wrenching sound of nothing, their footfalls echoing eerily on the wooden flooring, Toris protectively shadowing Feliks, whose blonde head was held high and proud. Feliks flopped down at his regular lunch bench, almost on top of a shaking and staring Raivis, and smiled at his friends.

"So anyway, that homework last night took me, like, an hour and a half! What the heck – that's way too much work."

No response – every boy in the room stared at Feliks, listening to him breathe. Then:

"Yeah, it took forever! What's up with Roma assigning all this stuff we never covered?"

Tino had uttered the magic words – the tension in the room cracked, then slowly subsided, the students turning back to their own conversations, sneaking covert looks at Feliks and the others, but otherwise keeping to themselves. Feliks beamed gratefully at his friend.

Eduard cocked his head at Feliks. "Feliks, wow. How – wha – _why?_"

Feliks shrugged, less non-chalant than he would have liked, looking shaken but happy. "It was time for a change. Or a rebirth or something. I like skirts. What's the big deal?"

Tino raised an eyebrow. "There's no 'big deal'…"

"But?" Feliks asked, looking ready to bolt.

"'But' nothing, calm down!" Tino said, laughing. "You look great, really. If there was a problem, I would have told you last night. I was just nervous when I didn't see you this morning; but I knew you'd be with Toris, huh?"

Toris smiled wanly, his eyes flicking around the room. He hadn't moved from his post by Feliks' shoulder.

"I-I guess w-we should have known, h-huh?" asked Raivis with a small grin.

"We're with ya, y' know," Berwald assured him.

Feliks grinned, looking a little soggy, a little wobbly. "Well, damn, you guys are just about the best friends ever."

Only Lukas looked crestfallen. He had been staring at Feliks with a horrified expression since he walked in the door, as if realization had struck. It had.

"So, at the ball, that hot chick was… you?"

Orin actually giggled.

"Umm… hate to ruin the moment," interrupted Eduard, "but, what are the teachers going to think?"

"Oh boy…" muttered Orin

"Nothing in the school rules says that I can't," replied Feliks. "I checked. They probably thought it wasn't necessary to spell it out, or something." He chuckled. "They thought wrong."

"Hey, hey, oh _man_," exclaimed Alfred, dragging Arthur unwillingly over to gawk. "Dude, its true! I thought it was just a stunt to get Cinderella! I never thought you'd actually wear that thing all the time."

"Well, here I am," said Feliks, gesturing to himself.

"Aw, man, that's so cool! It takes guts, man, high five!" Alfred enthused.

"It's not, aru, its completely anti-establishment," Yao sniffed, stalking over to the growing crowd. Toris stiffened when Yao came into view, but only angled himself so he was partially blocking Feliks.

"It's not a statement, or anything," Feliks said. "Well, I mean, it totally is, like, a _fashion_ statement, but that's not what I mean. It's just personal."

"Really, it's personal? Doubt it. You just wanna rock the boat, and get all the attention," Gilbert yelled from his post at a nearby table. Feliks glared and pouted in his direction.

"It's totally not. Mind your own business, 'kay?"

Gilbert's face darkened with annoyance. "Shut up, fairy. I can say whatever the fuck I want about you."

"No, you totally can't –"

"Gilbert, calm _down_," Roderich hissed as Gilbert stood, advancing on the little blonde.

"I'm not gonna calm down! I have a problem with this … this thing! What, you get mad at me when I cause trouble and make a scene, but suddenly it's okay to be a freak like him? He's being weird for the sake of being weird, and you all are okay with that?"

There was a warning silence at Gilbert's words, but he kept barreling on. "I hate how you accept him breaking all the rules cuz he says it's 'who he's supposed to be' or some shit but whenever I act up Lizzie goes all apeshit on me."

He was getting too close now, pushing Raivis aside to stand just in front of Feliks, not close enough to reach out to him but Toris tensed and looked about to leap. "But Lizzie was on your side the whole time! I confess to her, and I get fucking rejected; she thinks I'm too mean to her faggy cousin –"

Feliks was on his feet, too, hands on hips, tiny in the face of this larger monster but not backing down. "You can't get mad at me just because Lizzie rejected you – she only hates you because you're a self-righteous bigot!" he yelled.

Gilbert's eyes absolutely glowed with rage as he roared. "I _hate_ you, you freak!"

And then he reached back and punched.

A million things happened at once. The crowd surged forward, all too far away to stop what was happening. Feliks fell on his back against the table, pushed out of the way of the blow. And Toris took the punch straight to the cheekbone, falling against the wooden floor with a sickening crunch. Ivan was there in an instant, meaty hands tangled in Gilbert's shirt, backing him against the far wall before anyone could blink.

"Toris!" Feliks yelled, kneeling next to the boy.

"Gilbert, friend, you have crossed the line," growled Ivan.

"I won't tolerate fighting in –" began Yao.

"Feliks, I'm fine – ow…" mumbled Toris.

"EVERYBODY SHUT. UP!"

And, surprisingly, everyone obeyed. Mr. Roma was standing on a table in the middle of the room, glaring thunder and lightning at the boys. Then he suddenly broke, smiling sunnily at the captivated crowd. "Thanks. Now. I leave you kids alone for five minutes and a fight breaks out? Not fun, guys."

Ivan, face still pressed against Gilbert's, grinned. "Gilbert punched Toris."

Mr. Roma arched an eyebrow. "Really, is that what happened? Anyone want to add?"

"Yes, would anyone like to challenge me?" asked Ivan meaningfully. There was no reply, then Gilbert lashed out.

"Anyone going to comment on the freak of nature?"

"Stop calling him that!" exclaimed Toris.

Mr. Roma turned his attention to Feliks. "Oh, cute skirt! It looks good on you."

"You can't be serious!"

"Well, what is your side of the story, then?" demanded .

"He made Lizzie hate me!"

"T-that's not true a-at all," broke in Raivis, red-faced and wavering.

Mr. Roma leapt off the table, his face in an exaggerated pout. "Awww… why do _I_ have to deal with this? Fine – you know what? Arthur, escort Gilbert to the principal's office. Actually, Feliks, you'd better go, too. The uniform is cute but I'm not sure what to do about it. And Toris, you should go to the nurse's office."

"Like, let me take him," interrupted Feliks, helping Toris to his feet.

"Nope, principal's office, young man. I'm not letting you get out of this. Ivan, get your fists out of Gil's face and take Toris to the nurse's office."

Feliks blanched "No! You can't –"

"Let someone else take him," Ivan interrupted. "I will not go near Toris."

"What –"

"Raivis and I will take him!" Eduard offered quickly.

Roma sighed and shrugged. "Sure, sure, whatever. Just go."

Scattering, the students dismissed themselves.


End file.
